I woke up shortly after first light snuggled tightly against Carol in the chilly line shack. My arm was draped over her and my big hand was full of her even bigger breast. My morning erection was pressed firmly against her large shapely derriere. I hated the idea, but I needed to answer Mother Nature's call. I reluctantly released Carol's breast, quietly arose from our pallet and wandered outside to take care of my necessaries.
As I approached the outhouse that sat behind the rough hewn wooden shack, I was struck once again by how many things in the future mirrored things in my times. Thinking about the time I came from led to thoughts of my family and friends back in the nineteenth century. How long, I wondered, would it be before I saw them again? My sainted mother was elderly for the times in which she lived. Would she even be alive if and when I made it back?
I finished my business and headed back to the line shack. Sarah was coming out of the hut as I was walking back in. I guess my thoughts were readable on my face because she stopped and grabbed my arm.
"What's the matter, Jeb, is your leg bothering you?" she asked worriedly.
I am unsure if I would have answered that question truthfully if anyone besides Sarah asked it. I answered her because Sarah had a caring and kind heart and I trusted her enough to show her my weaknesses.
"No, my leg is fine. I was just thinking about my mother and the rest of my family. Every day that passes brings Mama closer to her maker, and every day that passes is one less that I'm there to protect them all," I said with a sigh.
Sarah's mouth made a small round 'oh' of surprise.
"It means no such thing, Jeremiah, not in the least. That's because when you return to your time it will be to the exact second from which you departed. Think about it, Honey, time for you cannot exist unless you are there to experience it. And if any measurable amount of time passes without you in it, you are erased from that time line forever.
"The big problem with creating the time travel apparatus was finding a way to synchronize the two ends of the time line finely enough so a person returned the instant they left. Helena was the one who discover a way to do that based on some atomic property of Hawkingium. Helena's Hawkingium 'clock' is accurate to a ten-billionth of a second.
"The reason you returning with Sonja and her team was such a shock was because none of our brains could comprehend poor Johnny Chen disappearing and you appearing all in the same instant."
I do not know which amazed me more, what she said or me actually understanding it. Sarah explanation took quite a load off my mind. I gave her a hug and a grateful, sloppy kiss. My mind was working a mile a minute as I pondered the ramifications of that new reality. In ten seconds I bet I came up with ten ideas.
"So we can go back and forth and never loose a minute in either time?" I asked rhetorically. "That means we can live and make things better in both."
Sarah nodded, not bothering to step back out of my arms.
"Yes, you could do that, the caveat being the Pleiad agreeing to use the time machine for that purpose."
That statement sobered me somewhat because as things stood now, doing favors for me was probably the last thing on the Pleiad's agenda.
"That might be a problem then. I'm not their favorite person right now," I allowed with a frown.
Sarah pulled my head down for a real kiss and wiggled her plush body against me as she stood on her tip-toes. When she finally broke the kiss she had me panting like a hound dog in July. She leaned back in my arms and gave me an impish grin.
"The composition of the Pleiad is subject to change, Jeremiah. Liz Smith is ready to openly challenge Council President Bearclaw. With your help, I don't think it will be long before the valley dwellers and outlanders have one government under her leadership. I am fairly certain that Elizabeth has plans for you playing a big role in all of this."
When we crested the ridge line that formed the eastern rim of the valley we spotted the camp of the outlander militia detachment that was returning our horses. When we rode up among them, a youngish looking militia man rendered me a snappy salute.
"Good morning, Citizen Brock, I am Lieutenant Deming. Queen Elizabeth sends her regards and requests that you allow us to escort you and your companions to New London."
I sat up tall in my saddle and returned his salute.
"We'd be honored to ride with you, Lieutenant," I replied.
We changed mounts, bid Carol goodbye and were threading our way down the mountain within fifteen minutes of arriving at the militia camp. Carol gave me a kiss that curled my toes before she departed then placed her lips by my ear.
"I'll be in New London in a few days muleskinner. When I get there I expect you to have a night saved for me and the energy to make it worth my while," she whispered.
I pulled back and nodded dumbly, all my blood having deserted my brain for points south.
We made camp that afternoon beside the same spring-fed pond we'd stopped at just last week on our first trip. This time, there were no distractions to prevent me from exploring the cave above the spring. True, the cave had appeared to be an empty twelve foot by twelve foot room, but something about my remembrance of it tickled my curiosity.
I slipped inside the cavern with one of the flameless lanterns I had borrowed from Lieutenant Deming. I took a careful walk around the inside of the cavern and confirmed that the walls had been worked flat with a chisel, judging by the tool marks in the rock. In the far back corner, the odd thing I'd noticed on my first cursory inspection immediately caught my eye again. The dirt floor was slightly mounded in a rectangle about two feet by four feet. The raised area was only about a quarter inch higher than the rest of the floor, but the regular shape was obvious in the bright light of the lantern.
I walked over to the slight rise in the floor and cautiously stepped lightly on the edge. I could feel the difference in the ground under my feet but it felt as solid as the rest of the rock floor. I knelt down and brushed the sand off the protrusion with my hand. It only took a couple of swipes to see that I was uncovering a metal plate of some sort. It took me only a couple of minutes to expose the entire rectangle.
I sat back on my heels and examined the metal plate under the intense light of the small lantern. It was obvious to me that the metal plate had been colored and etched to match the natural rock floor. I surmised that some force of nature must have heaved the plate upward slightly so that it broke the plane of the floor.
I found an indentation at one end of the plate that looked as if it were a handle of sorts. Even though I thought it would be too heavy to lift by myself, I grabbed the handhold, bent my knees, locked my elbows and pushed upright with all the strength my legs could generate. To my great shock, the plate pivoted upward so smooth and effortlessly that all my excess effort sent me flying backward onto my big muley butt.
I stood up and rubbed my hind end as I contemplated the now open hatch. I leaned over and shined the light into the inky black darkness, not surprised in the least to see a set of metal stairs leading downward. I knew it was probably unwise to go further into the cavern by myself, but I shrugged and started down the steps anyway. Wise and Jeb Brock were not words often spoken in the same sentence.
There were fifteen steps leading down to the next level of the cavern. The steps were narrow but not especially steep. The chamber at the bottom of the stairs was much larger than the room above and yet it showed the same tool marks on the walls. I figured the caverns had once been some sort of mine. I stood at the bottom of the stairs and shined the lantern around the cavern. Amazingly, the chamber I stood in appeared to be the entry hall of a house constructed underground. The walls behind me and to my right were tool gouged rock; the eight foot tall partition walls ahead and to the left were white-washed plaster. There was a door in both the front and left hand wall.
I found the first body in a bedroom; it was the second room I entered. The mummified elderly woman was dressed in a white gown and laid out as if for burial on an ornately carved sleigh-bed.
I found the second body in a room right off the bedroom that was obviously a man's office. The room had a single bed tucked against one wall; a large desk dominated the center of the space. An elderly man was sitting in a chair slumped over the table. He was also mummified, his skin stretched like dark parchment over his skeleton. Next to his right hand was familiar looking revolver. It was a superiorly made weapon that bore a striking resemblance to my own Colts. Next to the pistol was a leather bound ledger.
I left the man in his eternal peace and shined the light around the room. A glass faced gun cabinet immediately reflected the beam from my light. Holding the beam steady on the cabinet, I walked over to it and pulled open the door. Inside the cabinet were a version of a Winchester model 1866 repeating rifle and a beautiful double-barreled fowling piece. Hanging on a hook in the cabinet was a well worn belt with a holster attached to it. A pistol that matched the one on the table was sitting on a shelf above the rifles, along with some gun cleaning supplies and a few tin containers.
The contents of the room were very well preserved, even though they had to be hundreds of years old. I had heard of similar discoveries around the gold mines in Colorado when I was a deputy in Boulder. Miners told tales of finding mummies and weapons from the times of the Spanish conquest and even earlier than that. The miners attributed the condition of the bodies and equipment to the low humidity, lack of insects and scavengers, all combined with the cool temperatures found deep in the caves.
I started to fret about the amount of time I had been away, so I grabbed the holster rig, both pistols and the journal, then retraced my steps back to the original cave.
I climbed off the ledge and made my way to the tent that the militia men had erected for us. I stowed my new treasures and joined Tonya and Sarah under the big willow tree by the pond. The women were sitting on a couple of lightweight metal camping chairs, Sarah gingerly massaging her thighs.
"My legs are too short for horseback riding," Sarah complained. Then she looked up and saw me. "Ah-ha and here comes the reason I'm on the back of that evil beast now. Notice how he waltzes in after all the work is done."
Sarah could not quite keep a straight face as she nagged at me. Tonya grinned and voiced her agreement.
"He's that way all the time. He treats me terribly and then tries to seduce my Mother."
Tonya probably had a few more pithy comments ready for me, but she quickly changed the subject when she saw the loot I was carrying.
"Where did you get that stuff?" She asked, pointing to the book and the guns.
"I found a trap door that led to a second cave up there," I said, point to the little ledge. "Someone went to the trouble of building a house inside the second cave and these things were in it."
Both women's eyes lit up with curiosity and Tonya gave a slight nod.
"A bomb shelter, probably. They were popular during portions of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries among a segment of society who called themselves Survivalists. The shelters were designed to be a safe haven from nuclear attack," Tonya stated. Then she pointed at the leather covered journal I held in my left hand. "So anyway, what's the book about?"
I shrugged and flipped open the cover.
"I have not read any of it yet. I'll probably do that later. Right now, I want to go back and explore some more. Want to go with me?"
Oh yes, they most certainly did.
We informed Lieutenant Deming about our cave exploring plans and both women packed their small knapsacks. Predictably, Sarah took some medical supplies, rations bars and water. Tonya, though, took one of my pistols, a coil of rope and three portable lamps that she claimed ran on stored sunlight. I planned on staking my claim to the cave and its contents, so all I carried was my other pistol and a large empty knapsack. I didn't know what else we might find, but at a minimum I was bringing back the lever action Winchester and the fancy bird-gun.
Sarah and Tonya were as fascinated by the house built in a cave as I had been.
"This is amazing," Tonya said as she shined the lantern around. "I wonder how they were able to get all these building materials down here."
I shrugged my shoulders in the universal sign of stupidity. Everything about the strange cavern baffled me.
I mean here were these new looking weapons from probably soon after my original time right next to devices for which I couldn't even guess the purpose. Since everything in the cavern was part of history to Sarah and Tonya, I expected them to fill me in. I made that point as I led them to the bedroom occupied by the female mummy.
"When do you reckon this place dates from?" I asked Tonya.
She pursed her lips and shined her light around the room as Sarah checked out the long dead corpse on the bed.
"I'd say latter half of the twenty-first century. The furnishings and clothes are from a historical period called the Old West Revival. Western Revival was a movement that stressed a return to pre-modern pioneer roots in the face of a world falling to pieces. This simple, sturdy and functional furniture along with the weapons you found are museum quality examples of the period. This stuff is worth a fortune."
"Not if we can't get it out of here," I reminded.
Sarah checked both bodies and told us what she found.
"Without a post mortem, I don't have a clue about the women in their other than it was probably natural causes. The man though, died from a bullet wound to the head, probably self inflicted. I think when she died, he committed suicide. I expect that the journal you found will verify that."
I nodded in absent-minded agreement. I had reached about the same conclusion when I was there earlier.
The women continued looking around the office and I wandered into the next few rooms. The house was not very large; it had one bedroom, an eat-in kitchen, and only three other rooms. One of the unexplored rooms was a large library with thousands of bound volumes stored in floor to ceiling bookcases. The other was a repair shop of sort. Workbenches along two of the walls held all sorts of parts and equipment with which I was completely unfamiliar.
The third wall's workbench I recognized though, because it was a gun-smithy. In my time, I had many occasion to visit gunsmiths so I was familiar with the accoutrements of the trade. The tools and equipment laid out neatly on the bench were recognizable to me because they were for use on the weapons I found in the small 'office'. Weapons that were similar to the ones I carried. The major difference between the pistols was the ammunition. The pistols I found were modified to fire cartridges instead of cap and ball. I had seen a number of the cartridge firing Colts out west. The standard Colt Army 45 caliber pistol was easy to modify; it was finding the ammunition that was difficult.
As I shined my lantern around the well worn heavy pine workbench, I could see that wouldn't be a problem for me now. I found a baker's dozen boxes, each holding fifty complete bullets. Plus, there were boxes of hundreds of empty cartridges, ingots of lead and molds for the projectile ball and a couple of presses to join the twain. There were also a number of very large clear glass jars with glass stoppers full of gunpowder. I figured the brass cartridges and the lead balls were still serviceable, but I had my doubts about three hundred year old gunpowder.
When the women came wandering into the workshop I proudly showed them my finds. They were not nearly as excited about the bullet making apparatus as I was. Instead, they raved about the library and the (to them) rare antique books. I could not resist asking Tonya about the fire arms.
"Tonya, why are you so blasé about finding these weapons? I thought they would cause you some concern; two weeks ago you were calling them instruments of death. Do you think someone will try to take them away from me because of that?"
Tonya shook her head and picked up one of the bullets on the table.
"Projectile weapons are relics from our distant past, Jeremiah, like swords and spears. They are labor and resource intensive to make and operate compared to what replaced them. Today, it is beyond our ability to mass produce them, even if we had the desire too. We also seldom find any of those type weapons recycle mining because most of them were scrapped in the century following the invention of these." She patted the beam weapon she had slung over her shoulder and continued, "Because of all that, they are not on the list of banned weapons."
I left my partially filled knapsack on the gunsmith's table and walked with the women back through the kitchen to the only door we had had not tried. With the women close on my heels, I pushed open the door and stepped through with my lantern in front of me. I took three steps shining the light around in front of me then stopped. The women spilled out of the door, the beams from their lanterns mingling with mine.
Our combined lights barely dented the inky void. That was our first clue as to how vast this underground chamber was. Close at hand, though, were rows of shelves laden with all sorts of food in tin cans, mason jars and other containers I could not identify. Off to the left of the shelves was a double door privy. Just beyond the privy, a steady stream of water poured out the back wall and cut across the floor of the cave in a trench about three feet wide. I shined my light along the trench and watched the water disappear in a fissure in the opposite wall.
"There is the source of the spring outside," I said.
All three of us jumped when my normal speaking voice boomed throughout the chamber. After a good laugh at ourselves, we all tried talking in different voices just to hear the strange echoes.
"This place has even better acoustics than the symphony hall at the university," Tonya observed.
Right then I sure wished my fiddle was with me instead of with my bedroll at Liz Smith's house. I vowed to my self that the first chance I had, I would return here with it. Heck, why not? After all, I found the place and I was staking my claim to it. If I wanted to caterwaul, who was to say no?
We left as soon as Tonya checked out this contraption that was suspended above a swift flowing portion of the underground stream. I made the mistake of asking if she knew what the thing was. Even after she told me, I still did not know a bit more than I did before she started talking.
"It's a high-coefficient hydro-kinetic power generator," she said, matter-of-factly. "We use these on a much larger scale to power part of Paradise Valley because you don't have to dam up the river to extract power from the water-flow."
Luckily, the women could not see the uncomprehending look on my face as I blustered authoritively, "Of course it is; I see that now."
Tonya bobbed her head up and down and continued excitedly, "The man who shot himself kept everything here in really good shape and he pulled the generator from the water before he committed suicide. I don't think it would take an electro-tech long to have this thing working again and have electricity for the house."
That was all well and good but living in a cave was not in my plans for the future. When I told Tonya that, she nodded her agreement.
"Maybe not," she replied, "but it is a fascinating glimpse of our history. This place is the most complete archeological site I've ever heard of and would make a great museum."
Tonya's excited little speech made up my mind about the place. Yes, I would file a claim on the caverns but I was going to share that claim with Queen Elizabeth, the former history professor. Liz would know exactly what to do with the place while, aside from a few books and the items relating to weapons, I had no use for anything here. Out of respect for the dead man, I was also going to pass his journal on to Liz without reading it.
The ladies gave me a hand toting my newly acquired ammunition, rifle and gunsmithing equipment. They objected to taking the fancy shotgun, however.
"Leave it here, Jeremiah and come back for it later. We've enough to carry without you bringing toys."
I conceded the point and started loading my big knapsack. Sarah watched me for a minute then stopped me.
"We'll never fit all this stuff if you pack it like that," she said exasperatedly. "Empty it on the table then stack everything you want to take on the table and we'll try to find a place for it all."
I gave her a look. After all, moving freight was my business. I did exactly as she said though, because it is a well known scientific fact that any female above the age of twelve can pack twice as much cargo in half the space a man would use.
When I hoisted the knapsack after Sarah packed it, I had to stifle a groan. The danged thing weighed a hundred pounds if it weighed an ounce. I shouldered the pack and led the way back to the surface. When we emerged from the lower cavern, I closed the trapdoor and sprinkled some sand around it to disguise its location. I gingerly climbed down the small rock face being careful not to over balance myself with the huge pack. I waited at the bottom, helped the women down and we returned to camp.
At supper I had a chat with Lieutenant Deming as we gnawed on the tasteless lumps of sawdust the future folks called nutrabars. For the altered people, the bars were a complete and tasty meal but for those of us that were 'normal' they were less than a snack. I suddenly thought about all the canned food down in the cavern and mentally groaned that I hadn't brought up a single item. Even after sitting for a few hundred years, the contents of the tins and jars could be no worse than the nutrabars.
I told the lieutenant that I was laying claim to the cave and a thousand feet of land in every direction. He nodded and wrote the date, my name and the map location of the cave into his journal. He made my claim official with a stroke of his pen, pending a check of deed records in New London.
After supper, I talked Sarah and Tonya into joining me up in the first cave so we would have some privacy to celebrate my claim. It did not take much talking as they smile and grabbed up their sleeping mats and bedrolls.
I know I am repeating myself here, but the women in the future were amazing in any way you wanted to measure. They were the one hope I had that the distant future might include mankind among the denizens of the earth. In stark contrast, it was almost as if the men of this time were hell bent on driving humanity out of existence. The misguided change to man's basic nature, made in the name of abating his propensity towards aggression, had left them with no drive or vision for the future. Instead of looking to improve the present, most of them were obsessed with trying to change the past. I thought it was insane to want a return to the days that were the cause of the present mess. Liz Smith's vision was much more practical, so I was hitching my team to her wagon.