Unknown Man

By Bert Marshall

A man wakes up in a field on his knees vomiting out his guts. He looks around and for as far as he can see there is nothing he remembers. The smell of fresh cut grass is the first thing that enters his senses as he sits up and looks around. The sun is just creeping over the horizon and immediately the cicadas start singing. The noise scares the man and he drops into the wet grass more out of reflex, than intention. He feels sticky and hot and the other pungent smell is unfamiliar to him. It’s sweet and heavy and not altogether unpleasant.
A feeling of nausea permeates his guts and he rolls to his stomach and vomits up a creamy white liquid. Its smell is over-powering and he vomits again and again until his stomach has no other offering to give to the soil. He stares at it as if in a dream and it bubbles and sizzles, like the hydrochloric acid is eating the dirt. His throat burns like he sipped molten magma and he dry heaves until his eyes water.
He is finally able to catch his breath and he sits up and looking around, feels despondent. Beside him on the ground is an old shovel with a rusty metal blade on it, but that is about all he can make of it. Standing shakily to his feet, he looks around again. He lifts his nose and smells and his eyes go wide when the cool smell of water passes over his hair-covered face and enters his wide nostrils.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bert Marshall
• Release date: Dec 8, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310421419

Bert Marshall

Bert Marshall lives in Baytown, Texas and is a Baytown Sun Columnist, Blogger, martial artist, geocacher, PC repair specialist, Jeeper, hiker, indoor cycling instructor, past Texas State Emergency Care Attendant, Hunter education instructor, and a USAF Vietnam Veteran with two tours (651 days in-country).

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Unknown Man

By Bert Marshall

Published by Bert Marshall at Smashwords

Copyright 2015 Bert Marshall

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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The smell of fresh cut grass is the first thing that enters his senses as he sits up and looks around. The sun is just creeping over the horizon and immediately the cicadas start singing. The noise scares the man and he drops into the wet grass more out of reflex, than intention. He feels sticky and hot and the other pungent smell is unfamiliar to him. It’s sweet and heavy and not altogether unpleasant.

A feeling of nausea permeates his guts and he rolls to his stomach and vomits up a creamy white acidic liquid. Its smell is over-powering and he vomits again and again until his stomach has no other offering to give to the soil. He stares at it as if in a dream and it bubbles and sizzles, like the hydrochloric acid is eating the dirt. His throat burns like he sipped molten magma and he dry heaves until his eyes water.

He is finally able to catch his breath and he sits up and looking around, feels despondent. Beside him on the ground is an old shovel with a rusty metal curved edge, but that is about all he can make of it. Standing shakily to his feet, he looks around again. He lifts his nose and smells and his eyes go wide when the cool smell of water passes over his hair-covered face and enters his wide nostrils.

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Seven hundred meters south a young farmer is cutting hay with a wooden handle scythe and with each swing, more sweet hay is cut for his small heard of hybrid ruminants. The harvesting of the long grass is essential to his clan’s survival. If there is no long grass, there will be no food for their animals. No ruminants mean they will starve, as there will be no white water for the babies and no hard milk for their grain loafs. Everything is dependent on the long grass and as he cuts, he watches.

The last fire storm was severe and the rains are the only reason he has grass to cut. The big stones hit the ground, killing many living things and only the safety of the sacred cave saved his clan. The big stones are coming with greater frequency and many are fiery balls impacting the ground with enough force to knock a being to the dirt, even though they land in the distance. After each occurrence, the rains come and don’t stop for a day or more.

The difficult part is guessing when the next storm will start and Luap stops swinging and scans the horizon. He’s a lean hairy-faced man of almost two meters and wears a simple loin cloth and ruminant skin shoes. Seeing nothing to alarm him, he adjusts the soft skin on his back holding the bright orange blade with the curious inscription Made in San Salvador on the hilt and continues working.

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Ycnan is feeding her hungry sprout from her enlarged right breast nipple and wince’s as the little male chomps down hungrily. She swats at the flies which zoom past. They are big and fat and slow-moving and have increased since the storms began. One lands on her sprouts face and she mashes it with her thumb and then smells it. Without thinking, she wipes it on her leg and looks at the sky.

She can’t remember when the fire stones began to fall, seeing she can’t think very well. Close to two weeks ago, she was struck in the head by a brutish male from a rival clan and only the intervention by her mate saved her and her sprout. Unfortunately her head has throbbed non-stop since the big male struck her. As she watches, there is a sudden loud banging noise and a fireball appears in the sky and slams into the dirt about ten big lengths away. Her sprout bites down hard on her nipple and she screams in both fright and anger.

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The lone man jumps to his feet and shakily stumbles toward a structure of sorts just as a second fire ball slams into the earth behind him, showering him with sparks even as he nearly loses control of his bowels. He’s never been so scared in his life. His life? He can’t remember his life, but at the moment this doesn’t seem to matter. The sound of the mass striking the earth almost breaks his eardrums and he dives headlong through the open door of the cave-like structure.

There is an incredible whooshing sound and then silence as the deafening blast of the fiery rock hitting the creek causes a temporary hearing shift and the man smells what he realizes is sour… Sulfur? He mutters and the words sound inside his head, but not his ears and he places his face into a corner and begins to cry. He’s lost and he knows it and all hope of survival cause him to wail out in desperation.

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Luap never saw the large stone that took off the top half of his body or heard the thunderclap afterward. He sensed it’s coming though and took off running toward their cave and this was his undoing. The impact and resultant explosion blew pieces of Luap out about sixty meters and the sulfur incinerated what little was left of him. Only his scythe remained and it was remarkably untouched.

The rain began almost immediately, snuffing out the flames and within one short measure of time, the air was once again clean of the offensive odor. Ycnan and third mate of Luap’s clan and number two mate Yram crawl out to the cave entrance and look across the field for Luap. They don’t speak and both know he will not be coming back. Both females drop their ruminate skins and step out to cleanse themselves, as they are filthy and stink. Somewhere in the back of their minds, they realize this is the thing to do, even though Luap never saw a need for it.

Yram grabs a handful of fragrant leaves and dragging it across the sand of the cave entrance, she scrubs her naked body and moan-sings a dirge all the people know. Death is common and Ycnan joins her. As they sing, they suddenly both stop and stare out across the field. A man is walking toward them and it’s not Luap! Both females retreat back into the cave and retrieving sharp metal-tipped sticks take up a defensive position at the cave entrance.

The lone man is walking across the field toward the scythe and he stops and picks it up. He’s not thinking correctly, but mutters, Didn’t people stop using these things about a hundred years ago? He realizes with a sudden grin that he can once again hear his own voice and for the first time since awakening, he grins… then he sees movement from the cinder block garage across the field. What tha Hell?

What he sees are two young and very naked women; one holding a hoe and the other a shovel and they look like cave-women with their dark-tanned, filthy, and hairy bodies. Their hair is long and shaggy, like it has never seen a brush or comb. Both women appear to be in their early twenties and the younger of the two appears to have recently given birth, evidenced by her wrinkled belly and enlarged breasts. He stops and lays down the tool and holds up one hand, then the other, to let them see he carries no weapon.

The two women have a facial expression of fear and anger and screech like animals at him, poking the stick and jumping around. He steps closer, but is still a good forty meters away when a third female suddenly appears and she’s older, maybe thirty and blond, but just as feral looking, albeit dressed in a partial cowhide shirt of sorts. Her breasts sag, evidence of a woman who has breast fed many children and she has a pitchfork, which definitely raises the threat level.

Goog! Goog! She cries out and her teeth are very white. Her voice is one of authority and behind her are two children, of maybe eight or nine years old and they have in their hands a woven basket of fruit, which they quickly snatch up against them and scurry back inside the open garage. The building is set next to a high stone wall covered in ivy and the ivy has all but taken over the building, giving it very much the appearance of a cave. To their credit, they jerk a heavy chain curtain down over the opening, which allows us to see each other but protects them from intruders.

I mean you no harm! The man cries out and this causes all three women to gnash their teeth and go crazy with their tools, showing no hint of comprehension. On the wall behind the ivy is a Chevron Gas Mart sign and it looks like it is very old.

My name is… The man simply cannot recall his name and halts and looks around. The three women are panicking now, screeching noises and almost foaming at the mouth and the man simply sits down and stares. The three carry on for another ten exhausting minutes before they settle down and then the two younger women do something unexpected – they dress and all the while, they look at him suspiciously.

Goog! The blond