This Carbon Based Life

           

Chapter Four

                                    Alpha and Omega

Dag and Ford arrived home with the usual air of communal excitement. Added to by the four roped women. “Demo’s sir?” Harley asks, expectantly. “Yeah,” Dag explains pulling laurel from out of the line. Advising Harley, “to keep a close eye, on this in.”

“Yes sir,” Harley answers with knowing deference.

“It ain’t like that!” The Outlander barks. “On second thought, I’ll keep it with me.”

Harley wanting no further part in the conversation looks away. Discretion being the better part of good health when answering Dag. Ford he was about to follow Harley’s path when Dag asks. “Git Silver fer me! En send him to my house.”

Ford, he answers, “Sure,” nonchalantly before slightly altering his course. As Dag walks the demos into his trailer his wives shriek with excitement thinking that demos was for their convenience. “Now why in they hell, would I do that?” Dag snarks, “When ya’ll got it so easy now!”

“Then what is she here for?” Johanna asks angrily.

Maybe, she your replacement,” Dag chides.” Johanna, she charges Dag pounding on his chest with her fists. Dag, he only laughs at her ineffectual attack as he pushes her aside. As Johanna shouts, “She’s fat and ugly! Only a Bush, would sleep with a woman like that!”

Having played it out as far as possible. Dag explains, “I juss need some information. En, Silver’s coming over en we gonna try an git it out of her!”

Johanna calms herself answering. “Just so’s you don’t put nothing in her, what concerns me.”

The demos laurel, she begins mumbling under her breath. “The great Dag, leader of men and servant of women.” Dag, he struck her with such force; she had no recollection of falling. Only of finding herself on the floor trying unconsciously to get back up. He pulls her up by the rope around her neck as laurel’s head throbs. A furious Dag screams only inches from her face. “You are a fucking demos! You is free to think anything you like! Inside that skull of yours you’s free! But whatever escapes from it, you’ll pay for!”

“Yes, I know,” laurel stutters all reticence stunned from her. “That’s another thin.” Dag barks, “you ain’t never been no demos before! You’re a lying Bush!”

The aged Silver approaches the trailer ambling slowly. A slight limp visible in his gate, asking. “You sent for me sir?”

Angrily, staring down the demos. The Outlander turns to him saying. “I need yer hep. This here lying demos is tellin stories. She says, she was with a large Harvester group living cross they river up near Sin City!”

Without any hesitation the old man becomes animated. “You must beat her sir! She is lying! The Corp rats would never tolerate Harvesters in the Hio! My advice sir is to beat her sir! Beat her soundly!”

Looking back at the demos. Dag, he asks her, “Well?”

“I told you what I know.” laurel mutters. Snatching at her rope, Dag spits back. “You ain’t told half of what ya know!” Reaching into his pouch Dag pulls out one of the yellow plastic bags from the boat. Passing it to the old man asking. “I need for you to read this.” The old man examines that bag with profundity holding it at arm’s length between the fingers of his weathered hands. “Reading the crimson lettering. “It says, Alpha and Omega Processing sir.”

The Outlander asks him. “Yeah, but what’s it mean?”

“It can mean, many things sir.”  Silver explains.

Dag, he cocks his head looking back perplexed by what that old man had just said.  Asking, “how’s that? How they Bush, can it mean many things? A dog’s a dog, a cat’s a cat, en a lying demos is a lying demos!” Answering by yanking on laurel’s rope for emphasis.

It is ancient sir. It comes from before the four. It comes from the Geek language. The Geeks were an ancient people who invented Jesus and philosophy.”

Dag, he answers surly. “Well, if they invented Jesus thin, they ain’t no count no how! What they hell is philopy?”

“It is higher thought sir, the Geeks invented it.” Silver, adding a proud emphasis of his own knowledge of the ancient times.”

 “Then let me ask you one thin,” Dag says. “If philopy is about higher thought. En thoughts is what’s inside yer head. Thin, how do them Geeks know they invented it?” Playing devil’s advocate asking, “They cain’t know what everyone’s was thinking.”

“It is abstract thought,” Silver tries explaining.

“You mean like words what can mean different things?” Dag, asks cynically.

“Yes, exactly sir! Alpha is the beginning and Omega means the end.”

“So, yer sayin this bag its they beginning en the ending of processing? That don’t make no sense!”

“No sir, it is the beginning and end of something. but what that something is remains unclear and could be many things.”

“Now, don’t you go starting that Bush shit agin old man. I done toll ya, that don’t make no sense!”

“Then sir, my advice is to beat the demos soundly sir. Until she tells you what you wish to know.”

“Thank ya Silver, you kin go.”

“Would your wives care to hear a story sir?”

“Maybe later,” In a sudden realization Dag stops him. “Go find Ford! Rn tell him to come right away.”

“Yes sir.”

Turning to Johanna, Dag announces. “Pack my kit; we’s leaving tomorrow at the gloaming.” Hesitant, Johanna says, “but you just got here and then asks inquisitively, “We’s?”

“Yeah, me Ford, en this worthless lying demos.” Johanna dares not to ask any more questions. But wonders about Dag’s need of this demos at their final destination. When Ford approaches, Dag, he calls out, “Be ready tomorrow when they gloaming comes. An take this worthless demos to Harley.”

As the perfect number two. Ford answers with a casual, “sure.” As he reaches for laurel’s rope. It was only after Dag had eaten and had begun to wind down that Johanna found the courage to ask, “How long will ya be gone?”

“Long as she takes.” Dag explains blandly.

“Are you going back to the same place,” she asks?

“Yep,” followed by a long silence.”

“Dag?” She asks slowly in a childlike voice.

“What!” he answers sharp anticipating some feminine outrage.

“Are ya gonna take that demos with you?”

“Yep, en that’s all they is to it. En all they is going to be to it.” Johanna, she knew what that meant; Dag, he was intensely honest, like a wild beast honest. He did not hide his emotions nor shade his feelings none. He didn’t suffer no foolishness or subterfuge, unless it was his own. The following evening, as the heat was abating, and the jungle growth faded into black darkness. Ford, he comes to Dag’s trailer with the demos in tow.

Dag was already waiting asking, “ready?”

“Ready,” Ford replies. “We’s goin back, ain’t we?”

“Yep, somethin ain’t right.”

“Thought so,” Ford says cocking his head acknowledging that demos. As they walked through the foliage. Dag, he spoke puzzled. “It were juss too Bushin easy! They done lost two boats. I ain’t never heard of a Harvester with one boat, let alone two.”

As they approach Robert’s camp. Dag cusses under his breath, “Son of a Bush! Not a single fucking sentry! En, after I done toll em!”

“They’s just asking for it,” Ford repeats. In the silence of a tropical night Dag hears the absence of sound. And he dove to the ground pulling the demos down with him. Ford quickly follows. Tying the demos off to a tree. Dag, he pulls his knife crawling through the undergrowth. Towards the silence of the still camp. Dag watches intently, motioning for Ford to flank the compound from the other side. Without any campfires or noises of any kind all was silent dark, en eerie still.  Seeing Ford, across the way. Dag stands, entering the camp alone. As Ford soon joins him saying, “They’s all gone Dag!”

“I reckon,” Dag answers back cautiously. “Check them huts, maybe they’s just run off?” With night trained eyes Ford rifles through a few of the huts. And returns saying, “All their stuffs still here.”

Through that blackness, Dag senses movement. Headed for him flat out. With his foot, Dag kicks at it sending it flying. The beast regains its footing and charges him again. And again, Dag kicks it. Each time the beast charges Dag he sends it flying. The last time, Dag pulls his knife. Chasing the critter down he leaps on its back. And  he tackles it before it could regain its footing. Holding it down Dag begins laughing and shouting. “It ain’t nothing a damn youngin!”

As Dag climbs off the beast, it charges him again. And again; each time, Dag kicks the shit out of him. A boy, not more than thirteen or fourteen rose each time to challenge Dag. When finally, Ford intervenes. Knocking that youngin senseless with a punch to the back of his head. The boy quickly re-focuses his aggression on Ford as his new target. Ford was rapidly losing his patience. Shouting, “Damn this little fucker, I’m gonna kill him!”

Dag watches on smiling asking Ford curious, “What for?”

“What for…?” Ford exclaims looking back incredulous. “The little son of a Bush won’t quit!”

“And I like that!” Dag comments approvingly.

“But the little fucker’s, is trying to kill me!” Ford argues.

“What’s yer name boy!” Dag shouts. The youngin, he rests from his assault sitting silently still. Breathing hard; listening to a human voice as if, he’d never heard one before. “What’s yer name boy!” Dag shouts. That boy, he stands, starring sphinx silent as Dag repeats. “What’s yer name! What happened here? You belong here?”  That boy he looks at the ground and his darkness begin to overtake him, until it grew darker still on him. “We’s on yer side boy,” Dag explains. “What kin ya tell us?”

That boy, he drops sitting cross-legged in the sand. And placing his chin in his hand forlornly contemplative. This was a subject requiring some hard study involving undeserved trust. The boy was placed against an anvil of hard truths and bitter realities. As the boy saw it. Since he was the sole survivor of his collective, he was therefore its remaining leader. And while it was true that these talking men had physical size and strength over him. The boy felt for certain he was smarter than the talking men were. Should he share his legacy with them? Still, perhaps if he did. They would feel beholden to him. And grant him a special status as a warrior in their tribe.

The boy  knew in advance he was acting rashly. And makin his decision too quickly. Then the boy he jumps to his feet pointing animatedly with his thumb in his chest. Then pointing at the two strangers. First, at Ford and then at Dag, before letting out a low growl as his tacit acknowledgment of Dag as the leader. Then Dag, he sorta nods back in return out of shear consternation. Curious about this youngin, so obviously insane. That boy he stood there trying to explain to them. But they were just too slow to follow. So, the boy began digging in the sand.

 “What is it boy?” Is they somethin buried there,” Dag asks? That boy, he smiles back with a sort of “no shit, dumb ass” smile. But Dag, he was too distracted by the sudden potentials to pick up on the boy’s subtle sarcasm. Ford, he digs with his knife until it made a metal clanging sound. Striking something buried beneath the earth. Dag soon joined in the digging, carving out the dirt at the hole around the edge of a steel drum buried in the sand. Peeling on its edge with his knife. Ford pries loose they steel strap with a loud, tensioned pop. Still anxiously digging away around the edge. Dag says, “I think ya done somethin there!” Ford, pulling off they lid, whistles softly. Saying, “Well, lookee here!”  

They outlander grabs a torch and lights it with a match. Holding it over them as they gaze upon that boy’s legacy. Four military rifles, and a chrome plated .357 Magnum revolver plus a twelve-inch Bowie knife. The bottom of the drum contained three metal ammunition boxes. Ford, he looked eagerly to the Outlander asking, “What’s the split Dag?”

“You gits a rifle, en I gits they rest!” Ford’s face showed his disappointment as Dag continues. “They’s mine, but they’s for all of us.” That boy, he went reaching in for that pistol. But Dag grabbed his arm sayin fraternally. “I don’t think so, youngin!” The boy responded by suspending his truce and resuming his assault on Dag. The boy attaches his self to Dag’s leg like a chigger and was trying to bite him. The outlander dances on one foot trying to kick him off.

Ford busts out laughing. “You’re right about him Dag. I likes him too!”

Kicking that boy loose his small body sails across the sand landing squarely on his butt. And this time when the boy rose to vertical, he found a barrel of a chrome plated 357 revolver pressed up against his nose.

“They’s mine!” Dag shouts. “Mine! You git me? I’ll kill ya if in, you want me to. But that’s juss they way she’s gonna be!” The boy, he sits cross-legged in contemplation and then after a few moments begins nodding to his self in a silent argument. “Don’t know if in he can make up his mind Dag?” Ford offers. As  the Outlander replies. “He made up his mind fore he ever sat down… or he’d be dead by now. The little fucker don’t like it much but he knows, he knows.” In consolation, Dag, he drops that Bowie knife in the sand giving it to that kid. As Ford asks, “you really trust that crazy little Bush fucker with that knife?”

“Trust him more with it, thin without it Ford. Fella who gets nothin feels cheated. Fella who gets cheated, ain’t got nothin to lose. En suspects, you’ll try en cheat him again. Fella who gets something… even, if it’s ain’t a rightful share; he’ll try en prove his self. He’ll say to his self, now here’s a fella with a shred of decency. Here’s a fella what can be bartered with. En, I shall prove myself to him.”

“But yer assuming the kids normal Dag… when he ain’t” Ford exclaims.

“He’s normal enough for here, en for now. He shut up when he’s toll to! En given a little time done right by us. He give up what he had which don’t xactly sound normal but since he did. I reckon, we owe him a little something in return.”

“But Dag, giving that kid a knife…that’s crazy!”

After a pondering silence. Dag answers, “I reckon so.”

That boy, he began teaching his self all about the mechanics of his new weapon. Making mock lunges and thrusts against imaginary foes. Finally, the boy begun sticking that weapon into his shorts up to the gudgeon. “Dag!” Ford hollers. “Make him get a belt for that thing at least. Running around with that knife like that. He might lose somethin he’ll need later.”

“Boy!” Dag thunders! “Go git a belt fer that thin. B’fore, you cut yer dang fool, dealy bopper off.” The boy at first stops silent and then began methodically searching through the huts for a belt. Finally returning with a piece of yellow, brown linen cloth he ties around his waist as a sash. They gudgeon of the knife was equal to the boy’s belly button. The huge, oversized blade glared back hanging obvious outside of his shorts.

“What now?” Ford asks.

“We takes a rifle, and they pistol en they boy’s knife. En, we go check on my boat, after we cover all this back up. A find like this don’t change nothing. These folks felt so safe they buried their weapons in they ground.” Dag warning, “ya cain’t never feel that safe, she’s a mistake. It’s a perfect time fer somebody lookin to kill ya, ta kill ya! You gotta balance these thins out some. You cain’t never be scared, but ya can’t never be too brave neither. It’s alright ta be a little scared provided ya don’t let it take ya over.”

After reburying the drum, Dag tries schooling some at the boy, “You wait here youngin. En we’ll be back after a while directly.” That boy, he stood mute as if not hearing them. Or not wanting to hear them. As the three began walking away. That boy, he follows staying three or four steps behind. Dag, he turns on him, shouting. “I done toll you to stay youngin! Now, do as yer told!” But it was no use. The boy was insistent on following after them. After several abortive attempts Dag made trying to snatch the boy up unawares en thrash him. The boy, he eludes them by dodging him each time through and around the trees.

“Alright thin youngin,” Dag, shouts. “Yer on yer own biggin, don’t spect no help from us!” Reaching the river, the outlander and Ford picks a spot amongst the foliage, and they wait in underbrush. That boy, he waited too. Sitting alone quietly in the dark woods only few yards away.

Dag waits as a predator waits cloaked in stillness waiting for something. For anything to happen or maybe for nothing to happen. They’re watching, listening and becoming the eyes en ears of the forest. It were near full dayfall, when they hear the distant hum of a boat motor. There were just two men in her this time approaching their doom from across a morning glass stillness of the water. Ford, he whispers to Dag. “What ya want to do?”

“I’m suwaneeing on it,” Dag answered. “We cain’t shoot em, no way we’d get em both. We need to get em to land.” Then a rustling from the undergrowth quickly catches their attention as that boy. He broke from the cover of the woods and began running along the river bank. Waving his knife frantically over his head. Immediately the boat changes course running in towards him. A shot comes from the boat nearly wounding the boy. As he falls into the sand. Then he lays corpse still until looking up at Dag. Smiling and giving him a covert thumbs up.

The run-about beached herself in the sand just a few yards from the boy’s limp body. The man with a rifle jumps over they gunwale. And despite, Ford being out of shooting practice he killed him with a single shot to the chest. The pilot had just put his shoe leather on the sand. And was about to reverse his course when a blur from the sand latches a hold of him. Stabbing him repeatedly in the groin with a twelve-inch Bowie knife. With death in his eyes, the pilot falls. As that boy was still attached, desecrating his corpse malevolently. Then the boy jumps up holding his bloody knife overhead celebrating his kill and dancing in circles in the sand.

Dag, he shouts at the boy. “That’s enough boy, enough! Go wash off in the river now. That blood will stay on ya! Ya don’t need to go wearing it. Go on now!” Ford ponders thoughtfully on the boy’s murderous performance. “That boy, he don’t say too much. But he damn  sure listens pretty good! He cut that Bushes nuts off!”

Uninterested, Dag, he answers somewhere else. “Whatever we’s up agin. They’s gonna be really pissed now. We’s at war with someone damn it! En, I wager they got more thin five rifles.”

Ford asks, “What now then?”

“Guess we best introduce ourselves. And show em what we think of them! Put them bodies back in they boat en pointer towards Sin City en let her go. We’ll get the rest of them guns en go back to camp to prepare. We’ll need to send some people back to get Robert’s en thems stuff. En divide it out among our folks.”

 Retrieving laurel, she’s complaining of thirst. And Dag, he accommodates her but only cause she was needed to mule out the guns. laurel was loaded down with three rifles and two ammunition boxes. While Ford, he carries a rifle the final ammunition box. And Dag, he carries …nothing.

They arrived in camp receiving the usual greetings plus the excitement of the firearms. Dag, he motions for the people to gather around advising them something was up. Instructing Harley to take the guns and the demos, before making his way to his trailer. But he was stopped on the path by Jimmy the Roach. “Dag, I’ve still got your money from the toll road.”

“En,” Dag asks?

“I wanted to give it to you, it’s yours!”

“Did I ask ya fer it? I want you to hold onto it for me. Never know, we might need to make a run over ta Sin City sometime.”

“Yes Dag, whatever you say, I ain’t forgot my obligation.”

With a smile Dag, he concluded their conversation with. “I wouldn’t let you forget.” Approaching his trailer Dag realizes there is a shadow following him close behind. This time, Dag he accommodates that boy. “Come on youngin, you gotta stay somewheres. Maybe them wives a mine will make a fuss over ya, en cut me some slack.”

Dag’s prediction came true. As he finds himself  ignored and invisible in his own home. “Where did you come from little boy,” Johanna gushes. That boy he only showed a hint of emotion before his darkness retook possession of his soul. Suddenly backing away from the women’s caresses and growling. Dag, he shouts. “Leave him be! Best we know, he’s a orphan. It sucks being an orphan robbed of everythin but yer life. You gotta let him be!  It’s all he’s got, en she’s all his.”

Confusing silence for deafness Dag shouts at him. “Ya kin sleep out here watchin they door. Ta earn yer keep boy.” Dag, then he points to a curtain hanging over the door to the back room, “You stay yer little ass out here, you git me? If in, I ever catch you in here while I’m sleeping. I’ll kill ya! Ya git me?” There wasn’t any visible response from that boy. So, Dag shouts again louder this time, “Ya git me?”

Again, the boy answers without any response. When Johanna she speaks up. “He understands you Dag. You don’t have to go on trying to scare him.”

Dag, he answers back, “Shut up, ya don’t know nothin! I weren’t trying ta scare him no how. I was only trying to educate him. You cain’t put no scare in this in. All they scared is gone from  inside this in. By they fire of they sun this in, ain’t got nothin left inside, but killer.”

“But Dag,” Johanna says with maternal affection. “He’s just a little boy Dag.”

“Bush shit! He’s a growed ass man in a boy’s body. He’s killed b’fore en he liked it. I reckon,  that’s all I need ta know.

As Johanna reaches for, the boy to stroke of his hair. He pulls away somehow appreciative of Dag’s tone. Even if, not fully understanding his meaning.

Dag, he then pulled out that chrome pistol from his belt en placed her on the table. To the “oohs and ah’s” of Johanna. That boy, he waves his knife  around some seeking a similar acclaim. But the women had seen lots of knives before. But a chrome plated 357 Magnum revolver was a right novelty.

“Where’d ya get it?” Johanna asks with an erotic murderousness.

“Robert en them is done for. That boy, he showed us where they cash was buried.” Then mumbling to his self, “Damn fools, buried they salvation. En, they ended up tradin places with it.”

“All of em?” She asked.

“Every last mother lovin son, cept in fer this in here. En, I don’t know who. En don’t know what. But I do know, we’s in they shit knee deep!

“What are you going to do?” Johanna nervously asked. As Dag he lets out a chuckle. “It ain’t juss me ya know, it’s we! Two moon from now is market time We got that long at least. I reckon we’s got go someplace safe. En stay there fer a while. I ain’t really got no plan. But it don’t mean nothin fer us but hard work. And lots of it!” Johanna, she worries at Dag’s concern. And at his willingness to explain it made her tremble. He was absent his normal bravado which really scared the shit out of her. “What have we got to eat.” Dag asks, more concerned about changing the subject than assuaging his hunger.  

“We’ve got some bread and some yams,” Johanna offers.

“What?” Dag barks at her. “That’s it? I’m out there killing myself for grubs en stalks!”

“Dag!” She answers shouting and matching Dag’s tension with her own answers angrily. “I’ll git you whatever you want. You asked what we had. Bread don’t bake itself; you know!”  

Dag scoffs at her answering. “Juss git me en they boy something to eat, we’s hungry!”

By the time Johanna returns with stew. That boy had curled up on a rag rug and was sleeping peaceful curled on the hloor. Dag, he ate his stew quiet lost in his thoughts. When he’d finished, he lay down in his bed without saying another word. Johanna, she cleans up. And leaves a bowl of stew out for the boy. Before she focuses her attention on Dag’s new weapon. Fearful at first, she dares not touch its trigger even slightly. She points it round they room with an excitement bordering on sexual. Here was real power. Here was a tool making her powerful as powerful as they strongest man. And with the touch of just one finger, she could right all of the wrongs in her lifetime. Johanna, she knew something even Dag didn’t know. She understood why the guns had been buried. The people were more afraid of themselves than intruders. And they knew themselves, too well. Their greed would have made them turn on each other, eventually.

.

Dag woke early in the gloaming and sent Ford to supervise Harley and the demos on breaking down Robert’s camp. After breakfast, Dag made his rounds, seeing folks and being seen. Before he calls all of  the freemen together. The men sat cross legged in circle in the sand. Listening attentively as Dag began to speak. After Dag frees himself of a vexatious shadow by yelling. “Boy! Sit yer Bush ass down!”

“Fellas,” he began. “We got us a problem. As ya know, ah, Ford en I went down to help Robert, en them. They said! They had a problem with some Harvesters. But I never did put no stock in it. En, we kilt some of them ole Harvester boys in a boat. Then we kilt they folks who come back lookin fer their boat. We caught some their demos. En, we found some of the bodies they was preparing. But somethin… she juss weren’t right bout it. So, we went back again, en well.  Robert en all his folks, cept for this Bush ass boy here was gone.”

A voice from outside the circle, calls out. “What’s that youngin got to say?”

Answering Dag says. “He don’t talk; he understands but he don’t say nothing.”

“What about the demos? What do they say?”

“Come on!” Dag spits out, expectantly. “Do you really spect they truth out of a demos?”

If in, you beat em hard nough they’ll tell the truth!” A voice replies.

“Yer missing, they point,” Dag tries to explain to rising chorus of angry murmurins, and mumblings of discontent. “Look here, I done took two boats, en four demos off these fuckers, en kilt six of em! En, they keeps on coming. Only corp rats, got them kind of numbers!”

Several asking, all at once. “What’d they want on our side of the river?”

Dag he, silenced them all, by answering. “Food!” After a pause, Dag continues. Taking advantage of their silence. Telling em, “fellas, we’s at war with they damn corp rats.”

The crowd erupts with everyone carrying on and fussing excitedly. Asking and complaining bitterly. “Damn Dag! What have you done now?”

“I ain’t done shit, Bush fucker! Them folks come here lookin to harvest us. You think about that fer a minute. What should I have done? Shake hands with em en say howdy? Either them corp rats done turned can bull or someone’s using they corp rats to try and make a profit”

“Dag, we cain’t fight they whole corporation Dag! They got guns, en numbers!”

“Yeah, maybe so!” Dag answers contemptuously. “But we got they Tuck. So, when yer through with yer bawlin en pissing on yourself. I’ll tell you, my plan. Yer right, they got guns en numbers. But they numbers is juss employees, en roaches. They ain’t even rightly got no men. These folks they live only fer they money. En they ain’t rightly got no men with honor.”

“How are we gonna fight em Dag?”

“We ain’t,” Dag explains pointing his finger at em. “We gonna make em, fight they Tuck, en fight they selves. Only way they can git here is in a boat. En from here to that river is long stretch. We gonna make em pay fer it for every bit of it. They loves their money too much! En most likely won’t like they price. If in its they corp rats. They’ll change their tune, right quick. If in its someone using, they corp rats. Thin them corp rats will take care of em they selves.

I done sent Ford, en some of our demos to git all of they stuff from Robert’s camp. Thin we’s gonna move up into they foot hills for a spell. En thin we go to war. Two moon from now is market time. Sell everything you don’t need to carry. En buy up whatever ya do. Buyup lots of arrows but do it casual. Don’t be tellin no stories to make folks curious about us. Till then, we gonna prepare our welcome. The sun’s up, en they night is over. They ain’t no point in carrying on about her now.”

 Towards the gloaming men with axes, saws and shovels begin preparing the Tuck. Felling trees to impede paths or creating a false one. Building blinds, snares with punji traps. The trees felled were used  to make kill boxes. And other  nearly fell trees were left to prevent rapid movement. New paths are created, while true paths were disguised. Robert’s camp it were completely dismantled. And all of the materials were put to maximum use.

This was gonna be a war of worlds. Men of concrete and steel versus men of the forest world. The new technology of yesterday’s tomorrows versus the technology from yesterday’s yesterday. They cunning of man, versus they cunning of man’s machines.