The Flint Knappers - Chronicles [Episode #2]

Name: Newman Smith
Mission Date: d+328

Since it was my idea for all of us to start keeping a record of our experiences I suppose I'll get things started with this entry.

There are many interesting things that have already happened which it would be a shame to forget. Therefore, dear reader please indulge me as I get 'caught up' so to speak. I'm sure the future holds many more wild tales of grand adventure but for my first few entries I will be sharing events from the time I arrived buck naked in this world until now, 328 days later.

I suppose a good story to begin with is how I was nearly killed by a Rakshasa but managed to escape with a noticeable scar on my left temple. This was about a month after I completed the beacon. It's a healthy reminder of how close I came to death and the importance of never letting my guard down. In a way it's the day that my entire life before was swept away and I became fully aware of my circumstances. It was like a moment of free floating in space. The moment I realized painfully the chasm between myself and the rest of humanity. I envisioned myself dying alone, torn to shreds and felt fear not of death but from the emptiness of screams that would never be heard. I felt alone for the first time since I crossed over.

The day began with our usual routine of a long walk through the valley to gather food. This was carried out along a network of forest trails that were quite extensive and had a bounty of different things to be harvested. It was a crude system of agriculture the Vanara had developed over generations. It was rather clever in its simplicity. They tended to eat naturally growing things and knew exactly where to find their favorites. After I showed them how to grow sweet potatoes in a patch they began to give some of their favorite varieties a gentle nudge by watering and fertilizer.

I would often go out with the females to help them keep the children occupied. The smallest Vanara female was still much stronger than me so there wasn't much help I could offer in carrying. The children however found me to be an endless source of laughter and as long as they were frolicking around me their mothers didn't have to worry about them running off.

As we're about 5 kilometers away from the base camp a group of warriors came running past us in quite a deliberate way. I recognized one of them as a friend and tried to ask him what the urgency was about. He told me that a pair of Rakshasa had been spotted by the waterfall and they were hunting as a team. Something had apparently pissed them off and they seemed to have an axe to grind. The females and children were told to head to the closest cave and I offered to go with the warriors. My friend looked at me skeptically for a moment but I insisted. I knew it would be dangerous but I also knew I couldn't expect the Vanara to fight my battles for me forever. I would go and help however I could. I never gave a thought to the fact that I was the only human on the planet and my death meant extinction.

In no time flat we were running along a trail in the direction of the waterfall. I could barely keep up and wondered if I would have any steam left for a fight. After a long enough of a run that I was getting winded I heard the waterfall off in the distance. At the same time I am getting my bearings I caught a whiff of that awful smell of death. We had run into a clearing and the smell seemed to be coming from all sides. And it was so strong...I knew they were close and then faster than any of us could react we were set upon in a flash of blood and terror.

The deadly duo knew we were heading their way and they had decided to wait until we entered the clearing. They blindsided us from the rear as we ran past them. One on either side of our column. The rear of our formation was killed silently while we were still registering their stench. Out of a group of eight warriors we found ourselves quickly down to three Vanara and myself. Their weapons were effective against the Rakshasa when they could manage to land a square blow. The weight of the broad axes wielded by the massive strength of a grown Vanara warrior could fell a tree with a single strike. Repeated hits to a Rakshasa barely leaves a mark and the speed of the beasts makes it very difficult to get a clean shot in. Against these odds my friends fought on even after being mortally wounded. Normally they are pragmatic in battle, running away if the odds turn against them. That day they decided their lives were worth paying.

The Rakshasa stood back-to-back lashing out in a complete 360 degree arc. One of the warriors' lifeless body was being used to beat their friends unconscious. With violent overhead swings the larger of the two Rakshasa was shrieking with a demonic glee as they shredded the grisly remains. They seemed to ignore me for the moment. Maybe they didn't take me seriously or maybe they were just ecstatic with their blood orgy. Some part of me must have had enough. I looked down at my trembling hands clutching two tomahawks. Blood was raining down in a red mist and as if in slow motion I took aim at the larger of the two. In a perfect tumbling flash the tomahawk found it's way straight to it's target. I managed to lodge it in a soft spot under his left arm just above the rib cage. It's companion seemed surprised by the sudden shrieks of pain and looked frantically from left to right as if trying to figure out what had just happened.

I knew it was a lucky shot and had already turned to run back the way we had come. Suddenly I found myself on the ground with my head bleeding profusely and being smothered by something huge. I thought at first the Rakshasa had leaped on top of me but I soon realized that I was being smothered by the torso of one my recently departed friends. I knew I only had a moment to free myself and struggled with every fiber of my being. I came to my feet to see a very angry Rakshasa coming right at me. Instinctively I threw my remaining tomahawk at it and kept running. As I glanced over my shoulder I saw blood streaming down it's ugly face. I couldn't honestly tell how much damage I did but it caused enough confusion that I was able to get out of the immediate area. Still bleeding profusely I made my way to the river where I managed to make a mud compress and staunch the wound on my head. After a brief rest to catch my breath I crept along the river until I made it back to base camp.

The village healer skillfully patched me up and I was back on my regular routine a few days later. I've never been able to shake the memory of that day though. I swore to myself afterwards to avenge my friends and put an end to the threat. I had been careful to resist any militaristic tendencies but I have come to know that with the Rakshasa nothing short of full force is going to work. I confidently decided it was time to bump up the priority of the weapons projects.

To be continued...

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