Ramius had the mind of an engineer. As he spent several years working with a small party of his closest friends and fellow adventurers, looking throughout the region for a place that would allow a permanent settlement, his spatial perception allowed him to interpret the surrounding geography with fair accuracy. Ramius and his cadre were driven by a desire to escape the constant turf wars, competition for limited resources, and the mass migrations to follow food sources for basic survival. In recent years, the problems had become acute as food resources had suddenly started to become noticeably scarce.
Various attempts to unify tribes to create peace and focus more on food security provided glimmers of hope, only to fail when self-interest ultimately prevailed over the common good. This desperate, short-sighted existence was criticized by a few who were considered tribal intellectuals. Unfortunately, tribe leadership was invariably in the hands of those steeped in the traditions of hunting, war, and revenge. Ramius was considered a leading intellectual and a close advisor of his tribal leader, Marco. Theirs was the Victory nation, which comprised a powerful tribe whose lands stretched for over one hundred miles in all directions. Victory had excellent water resources for drinking, fishing, and transportation.
Ramius had some success in developing a few crops and methods that were becoming effective, despite the nomadic nature of the tribe. His long adventures into the distant mountain areas were presented to Marco and the council as important scientific investigations, the aim of which were to identify new food plants that might be added to the small portfolio of species that were currently under limited cultivation. However, in reality, this was only a small part of his objective. He and his team of four other like-minded individuals, each of whom had been sworn to secrecy, were searching for a new place to design and implement a new way of life. They could see a bleak future unfolding, as the demise of organized life would involve misery, suffering, fighting, and, quite possibly, total extinction.
Recently, following a twenty-day probe deep into a distant inland mountain range, Ramius and his team returned to a mentally and physically battered Victory tribe that had spent a week fighting and maneuvering to repel a coalition of small tribes that were desperately seeking more promising lands to improve their prospects. The fighting had resulted in several deaths on both sides, which was unusual.
The nomadic peoples of the region had somehow evolved into a state of restraint and compassion for humanity.
Any disputes between tribes that became physical were, therefore, more like street fights than battles. Much like the contests of male domination among large mammals, from lions to elephant seals, the fights rarely ended in death but always involved a winner and a loser. The losers generally licked their wounds and either retreated to plan a new assault or moved on.
In this case, the desperate nomads were from very remote areas, where the codes of ethics and decency were very fragmented, and among them were fighters with a taste for blood. Of course, the men of Victory knew that these “criminals” were out there and that fighting them required soldiers who were also trained and prepared to use deadly force as a last resort. All the dead, which included one of Ramius’s nephews, were well known to him and his explorers.
Something snapped in Ramius’s mind at that moment when he returned and realized that the scenarios playing out in his head were not just paranoid fantasies but the beginning of a new reality. The failings of nomadism would propagate quickly like dominoes. The next confrontation would involve overreaction by Victory and would also involve serious casualties. This would trigger escalations. A focus on defense and security would undermine normal life and the education that was intended to groom the young to be peace loving. The beginning of the end was at hand.
Ramius redoubled his resolve to find an alternative.
Once one was found and planned, he would present it to the leaders and hope for a unified response of full support, barring which there would be a fracture, and the nation would undergo severe turmoil. Ramius understood that his plans and actions might in fact represent a self-fulfilling prophecy. As the largest, most organized tribe, Victory was a stabilizing force in the region. His actions would be seen as traitorous, destabilizing, and the very cause of an organized society run amok. No one would see the obvious fact that their civilization and its ways constituted a fragile balance that was now starting its death spiral. They would only curse Ramius as the Judas who brought destruction upon those who would not follow him: how evil a man … how selfish a man. As a result of his keen intellect, the scene played out vividly in his mind.
Wasn’t it better to work slowly and double his own certainty while enlisting greater support? If not, his newly established community would certainly require the best possible defensive capability, for his worst, most bitter enemy would now constitute what remained of his very own people.
Ramius pondered the possibilities, sadly quiet while his four disciples debated next steps.
“To wait is to risk the entire enterprise,” said Johnny, Ramius’s number two and closest friend.
“I agree. Marco will probably shut down our little expeditions as it is. Maybe we are already finished,” said Picket, the most practical of the group, who was also a trained survivalist and elite athlete.
Ramius did not jump in as the men hashed it out amongst themselves, and his comrades often looked over at him for a reaction or response. But Ramius sat quietly and just listened. His team comprised intellectuals like himself, and he drew many ideas and much inspiration from them. The right course would present itself, but it required a little patience and thought. His men were slightly panicked, and a rising call to action was resulting from their exchanges. Finally, Ramius joined in.
“I will deal with Marco and get us one last trip. There are reasons that he will find it compelling to allow it. But we need to treat this as our final opportunity. That means we might end up long overdue, for which we will have to concoct an excuse. But no matter what, we should expect not to be back until we find what we’re looking for.”
The men had been back for about seven days, and they had duties and were sought after in the tribe for various important matters related to growing plants, planning construction, discussing strategy, and teaching. Picket, for one, was the lead survivalist trainer, and survival was something that every Victorian youth was required to learn. He was also the head of the running club and the organizer of the sports contests that took place during the yearly festival. He wondered whether he would ever have a chance to organize another. How sad to think that such wonderful traditions would be interrupted or would never exist again—how bleak.
The men knew that it might take a few weeks for them to help stabilize and mentally heal with the tribe while otherwise contributing in their normal ways. This was a setback, for they were eager to depart and continue their explorations. Meanwhile, the time would also be spent planning and provisioning for the next journey. They would meet early in the morning every other day. This was perfectly normal, as they were all dedicated runners, some of whom had been running together for years. They would run, though not as far nor for as long as they once had, because the other reason for them to assemble was to report, as well as analyze and plan the next steps, while not attracting any suspicion that something was afoot.
Ramius and his wife, Ana, donned their best linens and makeup for the dinner party at Marco’s cave. Normally, they went every ten days. What looked like a dinner party with light conversation, lively debate, and good food was also an important leadership event—perhaps the most important one—and the group was exclusive and balanced in such a way that the best minds were all assembled. Once their tongues were loosened by ale and exercised by good conversation, the guests were led to the buffet. Sometimes, the fare was abundant and varied, and at other times, it was sparse and barely edible. Today was a “sparse and barely edible” day, indicative of the season and the recent struggle for territory and resources.
The scouting parties and the fighting built big appetites, and the Victorians, who were accustomed to relative abundance, did not normally cache a big buffer of provisions in preparation for conflicts or periods of scarcity. Ramius picked at the food with disdain. He regarded the cyclical nature of abundance to be altogether unnecessary and this latest pathetic display of a meal to be indicative of his worst fears regarding things to come.
“Let’s not start off on a negative note with discussion of the problems we have faced recently, or we will never get past that topic,” opened Marco gravely. “We will have plenty of time to go through it all and make some decisions in a while.” Marco turned to Ramius with a smile. “Ramius, why don’t you bring us up to speed on your trip? Everyone has been looking forward to it. Maybe there is something out there for us … to make our lives better?” posed Marco smiling broadly in an obvious attempt to spread calm and optimism. Ramius had expected this and was prepared, as always.
“You all know my goals. And some of you disagree regarding the merits of my little expeditions. But I know many of you share my optimism that there are things we need to explore off in the distance … things that we could use to better our situation. Well, I have some encouraging news,” declared Ramius, his voice rising with enthusiasm. “We ventured inland on a straight line to maximize penetration into the distant mountains to the east and beyond. We ran swiftly and continuously to probe as far as we could while still meeting our commitment to return in twenty days. Luckily, we were not hindered by steep mountain climbs, as we discovered an easy passage along a small river.”
Ramius continued, all eyes riveted on him as he uttered each word. “The river was flowing toward us, out of the mountains. Yet, when we got deep into the canyon, we discovered it was an offshoot of a larger river that was flowing from the north. We followed that river, and it turned abruptly east and continued in our direction of interest. That means we were soon descending the other side of the range into a valley far beyond. This was about eight days into the journey. In the distance, we could see a large basin … perhaps a lake … but, more importantly, some large animal herds.
“We headed off immediately in that direction to get as close as possible before nightfall. That night, we were on guard, as we could hear wolves closing in for a look at us. Then, suddenly, they were scattered, and that’s when we saw it—the giant cat … something we have only heard about in our lands, and that was generations ago. It seems these lands afar are teeming with prey and predators, unlike our dwindling system.
Our only conclusion is that there are no other tribes over there, since the herds are so large and gathered.”
Ramius proclaimed that he must venture there again at the earliest opportunity and go even deeper into the territory, as it represented another source of abundance that could separate them from other tribes and possibly allow for more sustained agriculture. He described the new, edible plant species that he observed, including some with which they were already familiar, standing in great abundance.
The patrons shouted and hooted with delight at these revelations. It raised spirits to such an extent that no one felt any desire to lament the past nor present, but only to dream of the future. As the din subsided, Marco raised his hand, capturing the attention of those at the gathering.
“This is wonderful, and we will wait in anticipation of good news to come. Congratulations to you and your capable team. I move that we give Ramius our full support and that he proceeds with his next journey at the earliest possible moment.”
“Hear, hear!” shouted one man, and a round of encouragement, simultaneously voiced by most in attendance, washed over Ramius as he nearly trembled with anticipation.
But his emotions were tempered by a fair amount of guilt and fear regarding his deceit. Marco paused and looked on at his council with a feeling of joy and satisfaction, but his tone and demeanor suddenly shifted as his mood became somber.
“Thank you again, Ramius.” Marco paused just a moment as he chose his next words. “Let us move on to another subject. Some of you may be aware that Johan is leaving us after such a long and fruitful life as a wonderful husband, a father, and, now, a grandfather. His eldest grandson, the boy Eddie, who is already a great young hunter, is almost ready for the army.”
The gathering focused on Marco, who now had Johan standing by his side teary-eyed as he looked past him and then scanned the audience. The group looked upon Johan affectionately. He was an elder statesman with a rich history of running, exploring, hunting, and fighting, all for the nation. He had sacrificed his better years for the good of his people, and now, he would make the ultimate sacrifice.
As Marco’s words continued, the sound faded into the background, and Johan could hear only his own heartbeat and his own breath. Those gathered suddenly erupted into applause, and Johan snapped back into the moment. One of his oldest and dearest friends carried on with kind and respectful words as Johan’s thoughts again drifted away. He saw himself smiling and laughing as he ran along his favorite trail down by the river. He could see his lovely wife ahead. She was so young and looked beautiful, happy, and peaceful—a vision in his eyes.
Suddenly, while running, he began limping in pain. He cried out as he tried to make the distance ahead of the walking sentry, who moved at a pace that was considered the minimum required in order to pass the test. His vision blurred, and the searing hip pain overwhelmed him. He tripped and then fell hard onto the dusty trail in front of a group of onlookers comprising army men.
Normally, they might think it funny to see a man trip and fall, but they knew that Johan was a decorated warrior and general, and they could see their own future in his plight, so their demeanor was grim, stoic, and even sad. They each wished him to his feet, hoping that he would carry on and live to enjoy another year among his people. But it was not to be. Johan rose to his hands and knees only, gasping, spitting the dust from his lips, and hanging his head low in defeat.
Upon returning from Marco’s gathering, Ramius confided in Ana that the whole affair was merely fiction that had been spun in his own imagination. She already knew this but realized that it helped him to confess. It also brought her back down to earth, as his ability to imagine and sprinkle in so many details almost had her convinced that it was true, and she had found herself off dreaming with the rest as his confident voice painted a virtual masterpiece.
He was riddled with guilt that one day, the truth would most certainly be known, and there would be a deep sense of betrayal. It seemed ironic to Ramius that his tale of Utopia, which he had designed to present the best possible future to his listeners, was totally flawed. Migrating off to some distant area of high abundance would no doubt just spread the “human” problem, and the situation would eventually be the same— maybe worse. The Victorians would be emboldened and would feel secure. The population would grow rapidly, and the ultimate decline would be more precipitous.
“I hope I can be forgiven,” he muttered while staring off into the distance.
“Ray, promise me that you will succeed and then take me away from this life,” said Ana. “If you have convinced me, then I know that many people are more easily convinced. But, first, you need to find Eden. I hope this place you have dreamed of really exists.”
Eden was the name they had given to not so much a place as to a set of specifications for what a place must have to make it viable for the type of human society that he and his followers had envisioned. The place needed to be easy to defend without constructing massive walls, it needed to have sufficient water, and finally, the land and climate needed to be conducive to productive agriculture.
The Victorians were about equally divided between strict vegetarians and meat eaters. The trend had started two generations earlier, when one of the tribe’s influential women, who happened to be Ramius’s great grandmother, started to preach that killing animals was objectionable, given that it had changed the face of nature within her lifetime. Other predators competing for the elk, deer, and wild cow had disappeared altogether, as they had ultimately been killed off primarily for human safety. She also argued that killing animals was a cruel practice.
The rise of agriculture happened to coincide with this new mind-set and allowed people the luxury to choose vegetarianism or not. Most parents were advised to raise their children omnivorous and to let them choose for themselves when they were old enough. This allowed all children to be similar to one another with regard to food, which was important in order to reduce bullying and avoid dividing children along lines that would only sharpen as they grew into adults.
“Poor Johan. I must go visit Amy in the morning and see if I can help in any way,” declared Ana. Amy was Ana’s good friend and Johan’s youngest daughter. She was not taking the news about her father very well. “I just hope that old warrior takes his medicine.”
“I doubt he will,” said Ramius grimly. “But I also share your hope.”
Late that same night, the moon was full. It was a calm, mild, beautiful summer night. Johan hugged his wife, and all of his family members huddled in to join them. The women were wailing, and so were the grandchildren, even a couple of the boys. Johan was teary, but he also wore a somewhat grateful smile.
His wife pressed a small pouch into his hand. “You must! Please promise me,” she begged. Johan nodded with assurance and tucked the small pouch into his larger belt pouch.
He then instinctively reached back with his right hand to check for the handle of his knife—his old friend. It gave him comfort to feel it there, and he gripped the handle while he squeezed his eyes shut. He let his hand fall, and his eyes opened. The hugging had finally stopped, and the wailing had toned down.
Johan scanned his people with dignity and a smile. They all controlled themselves at this point so as not to make the situation more difficult than it already was. He shared one last long embrace with his wife, and his two daughters stepped in to hug him one last time. He then backed away slowly, turned, and started to walk away toward the rising moon and into eternity.
He tried his best not to show any limp, which would only elicit pity and sorrow, and in doing so, he endured much pain. He clenched his jaw and soldiered on toward the bushes and high grass ahead. The family resumed their wailing, trying to mute themselves. The sounds of the prairie, birds, and insects, along with Johan’s own thoughts pounding in his head, prevented him from noticing any disturbance or distraction. He was focused on the immediate future—one that was certain to be short and unkind.
His party had already started their walk of several miles back to the village by now, and Johan stopped and sat on a fallen tree trunk. He drew some deep breaths; stood, still a bit shaky; and kept moving. Now, he could allow his limp to cover for his ailing hip and try to minimize his pain as much as possible.
That old injury … damn. Johann recalled the fateful event that had led to it. They were running down elk, and he was now leading the chase pack, while the previous leaders eased-off for a rest as they withdrew to the flanks to create a wide human net to keep the unwitting animals moving toward a dead end, from which there could be no escape for some. But some elk were themselves warriors in terms of their bravery and independent will.
One such buck eyed Johan while on the run and then turned on him before skidding to a halt. In the blink of an eye, it charged with such speed and ferocity that, for Johan, the memory was still a blur. The buck lowered its rack and thrust upward precisely at the moment of impact. Johan could still here the crack within his own body as his pelvis was practically demolished.
After the impact, he remembered nothing, except waking up to pain and a long, agonizing recovery. After this incident, he was never the runner he had been. He did rehabilitate himself and persevered to regain superior running ability. But the die had been cast, and the years had worn upon his imperfect hip, made so by the fateful collision all those years ago. Johan now faced his own mortality.
He felt that he was deep into the wilderness and into the night, with the full moon looming high above. He hadn’t been merely wandering. He wanted to get to the edge of the high canyon overlooking the river below to hear the rushing water.
It was a popular place to die, but he didn’t care. It was popular for good reason. They all wanted to be reminded and comforted, and this was the place where many people preferred to see their end. Johan reached the edge of the canyon and looked down. He then looked up and down the steep canyon and then across to the mountains on the other side. It was beautiful under the full moon, and he suddenly felt a sense of excitement.
At first, he thought that he was happy, but alas, it was just nerves. The looming sense of fate suddenly closed in on him. Johan sat on a rock overlooking the river far below. He knew this spot. In fact, he knew the very rock and had sat there countless times throughout his life. As he enjoyed the cool night air and the surrounding sounds and smells, he imperceptibly slid his fingers into his belt pouch.
There it was. He could feel it. Inside the pouch was the small piece of jerky, which had been treated with the deadly extract. Marco’s advisor and tribe doctor had said to him, “Just chew it up quickly. It will taste normal. Soon after, you will feel your mouth become dry and then numb. At that point, you will very quickly fall asleep.” It sounded so easy. Just fall asleep, and it’s over.
Just then, under the fullest of moons, he could hear the baying of the wolves. Yes. That was the other way—the warrior’s way. He thought of Amy pleading with him not to be foolish, stubborn, and brave. He pulled out the inner pouch and then reached and withdrew the jerky. He even felt a bit hungry.
Yes. Better to do it now, because once they arrive, it’s too late.
He closed his eyes, squeezed them shut, and then let out a mighty yell at the top of his old lungs: “You bastards will have to work for it!”
He stood up, looking out across the canyon, and threw the piece of jerky as hard as he could out across the abyss. He watched to see if he could see it, but he couldn’t. It was gone, and so was the easy option.
He reached his right hand back, grabbed the familiar handle, and pulled his powerful hunting blade from its sheath. He then turned, holding a stance of readiness as if he were under imminent attack. But the area was still quiet. He noted that it was in fact too quiet. It won’t be long now, he thought, his heart starting to rise in response to his sudden feeling of fear and alertness.
He was no stranger to these feelings; they were feelings that he had learned to master and accept as a boy and a young man. And after so many years of living the life of a man of Victory, with its constant needs and unpleasantries, fear had become a familiar old friend—a feeling of vitality and excitement. Fear was not to be withdrawn from but, rather, to be embraced. He had to start moving, else his chest might explode. His senses sharpened. He could practically feel them now.
The breeze blowing off the canyon had soaked the area with his scent, which had by now carried quite some distance.
He knew they were there. “Ha ha ha!” he belted out in a maniacal tone. “Let’s do it, you bastards! I’m ready for you! I have something for you right here, you bloody bastards!” He walked on: crouched stance, limp nearly gone now, nonessential systems shut down, all energies focused, and coiled. He walked out of the open area into the brush and live oaks, still on the trail.
Silently, nearly a dozen wolves had already arrived.
They were scattered—some in pairs but most operating solo at this point. Their noses, more accurate than any compass, subverted all other sensory faculties and demanded complete obedience. They had trotted briskly yet silently in the direction in which they had been commanded and then slowed to a walk as their noses had instructed. So close now … only quiet breathing.
At close range and in the quiet stillness, the nose relinquished its solitary hold, allowing an equally capable auditory system to kick in. The wolves crouched along the trail and could hear Johan’s footsteps. They had just heard his outbursts inviting confrontation. Now, the scent was so strong and the sound so vivid that the animals’ salivary glands started to pump in anticipation. The youngest and most eager of them could no longer contain itself and sprang onto the path directly ahead of Johan. It crouched and growled, not ten feet away.
Johan paused, temporarily feeling paralyzed. Then, he snapped and tore ahead, knife held high as he charged screaming, “Aaaarrrrgggghhhhhh!”
The young, impetuous wolf was startled and backed up but then shored up its nerve and prepared to clash. But it never got the chance to be the first, as the wiser members of the pack sprang from cover on both sides of Johan. He could see it coming and, in fact, expected it to occur this way. He wheeled around, blade outstretched, and caught the first challenger squarely in the neck—an absolute kill shot.
But as the mighty blade did one thing, it could not do another—at least, not in time. The second wolf was airborne, descending on its mark, when its pack member suffered the fatal blow. It landed right on Johan’s back and sunk its teeth into his shoulder.
He cried out as he was flipped over by the weight of the animal and its force of impact. Johan landed hard on his back, still gripping his knife with unshakable force. Now, there were three of them charging. The one that took him down came in from behind, looking for his neck. The two others went for the legs. He swung the knife wildly. He got a piece of one of them.
But they were too powerful, shaking him violently as they ripped into his flesh.
He could feel the warmth and wetness of his own blood and in the excitement, he didn’t even realize that there were already teeth deep into his neck and that he was already impaired by the loss of blood flow to his brain. The last thing he recalled was the feeling that his knife was so heavy, so very heavy, and he let it go just as he crossed to the other side.
In the morning, against the direct orders of their parents, Johan’s two grandsons, Eddie and Dom—each from a different daughter, yet as close as any two brothers—set out in search of Johan’s remains. They knew that there was a code among real men not to take the drug but to face the wolves.
They had to see and know for themselves which path Johan had chosen. It was part of the fear that Johan’s daughters had—that the warrior’s way would be seared into the minds of their sons and they would choose a similar path. This scared the women terribly.
They, among many tribespeople, including numerous men, believed that the entire practice endangered them more than keeping the infirmed and elderly around. This was because the practice always kept the wolves close and on standby, and when there was no offering, and the wolves hadn’t had much luck in their hunting, they would come near to the village, looking for opportunities. The sentries were always on patrol in groups, but wolves were intelligent and persistent. There had been terrible tragedies over the years, most involving children, so it incensed the women that these practices that so emboldened the wolves would continue and put everyone, especially the most vulnerable, in peril.
The boys snuck out just before the break of dawn, knives and spears in hand. Their two other friends joined them, equally armed, to make a presence that was sufficiently large to deter any wolf attacks in the twilight hours. They knew where to look and what to look for. In either case, they would be unlikely to find their grandfather, who would have been dragged well off the trail and eaten. Frankly, still emotionally raw from the preceding night’s goodbyes, they were afraid to find his remains. What they sought was evidence of a struggle. If there was no struggle, then they would assume that he took the drug and died by his own hand.
This would be a disappointing find from their perspective, as they wanted to believe that their grandfather was fearless and that his bravery was also a part of them. They were not disappointed. The evidence of a struggle was everywhere. There was blood everywhere and a dead wolf in the bushes at the trail’s edge. They also found the knife that killed the wolf. Their sense of pride and excitement soared, their close friends on hand to bear witness.
The knife would need to be carefully hidden until a later time. The boys had already worked out that Eddie was to get the knife. Above all else, this was the treasure they had hoped to find—a symbol of their family identity. The boys ran back toward the village single file, hooting, hollering, and shaking their spears in the air. Adrenaline coursed through their veins as they picked up speed all the way home.
Ramius and Johnny boarded the raft that was used to cross the mighty river. The Victory settlement was almost entirely on the north side of the river, where there were some trees, caves, and small foothills, which made for better living quarters and an improved defensive position. But the south side had the open plains, where there was more sun and better soil fertility. In the middle of the river was an island that was quite sizable and was home to a few dozen residents, who were mainly fishermen and their families. At any given time, the island also garrisoned about fifty soldiers.
The raft was held by a large rope and was hauled across the river to the island, a distance of about fifty yards. On the other side of the island was a similar arrangement that was used to make a second crossing to the other bank of the river.
But the second crossing was in much shallower water and about double the distance, so the raft and ropes were smaller. In the driest part of the season, the second crossing was nearly dry and walkable.
It was currently the high river season, and the men had to take both rafts to make their way across to Victory’s farmlands and check their progress. Ramius was in charge of a sizable community of farmers there, who were growing food and planting experimental fields in an effort to develop new growable food items for the increasing appetite of an everlarger population.
As he walked across the island, he stopped at its downstream point, where a large, calm, deep pool was sheltered from the strong currents. It was the main location for recreational swimming and swim training for both the military and the athletes who were planning to compete at the festival.
Ramius watched the various swimming activities that were going on and smiled. He loved swimming and had been a top contender in his prime. He and Johnny stripped down and dove off a low ledge and into the cold, clear water, gasping with a hoot as they surfaced. They swam out toward some exposed boulders at the edge of the large pool and crawled up on them to feel the sun’s heat. Breathing heavily, they used this time and solitude to plan their next moves.
“This time, we go upstream as far as we can,” said Ramius.
“It’s risky,” retorted Johnny in a repeat of a conversation that they’d had numerous times.
“It’s going to be a higher elevation and, therefore, colder. And it’s likely to be mountainous, which will limit agriculture.” Johnny’s argument was sound. But they were running out of options. It was simply a process of elimination.
Everyone knew that way upriver, the valley narrowed to a steep canyon.
Some exploration parties had long since hiked to the top of the canyon and followed the river upstream, but it had remained a canyon and had appeared continuously mountainous beyond that point. So, after several days into it, they had returned and reported to the leadership that it had been impassable for any large groups and had appeared neither hospitable nor abundant in any way. Therefore, there had since been little interest shown in venturing out in this direction.
Another sign was the fact that no other nomads had ever arrived from that direction. The absence of any settlements indicated that beyond the canyon, there was little likelihood of any livable areas that could sustain a human settlement. Ramius had a different view, but he questioned himself constantly because it was a very high-risk venture, particularly now when they had only one shot left. He saw a very positive element, which was the defensibility against Victory, based on the natural geography.
Victory had ventured extensively in every other direction because it had been easier and presumed to be more abundant.
The question was whether anything existed out there, to the southwest in the far distance or whether it was merely endless mountains forming the headwaters of the river. He knew that to the west was the ocean, which could be reached by crossing mountains to the west or northwest. But the south and southwest directions were a mystery.
Despite the uncertainty, a process of elimination was the key driver. Ramius could not see a scenario in which they would find safe haven in the directions in which they knew other nomads lived and there were very open spaces. It was never going to result in a situation in which a new nation could remain stationary with the rest of the nomadic world swirling around it.
“We’ve been through it, Johnny. I don’t like the uncertainty any more than you do. But I don’t see another option. To find what we are looking for, we must explore the truly unexplored.”
“We will need to cross the river when everyone thinks we are heading the other way,” reasoned Johnny.
“It’s just the five of us. We can head out in our stated direction. Then, we will cut northwest over the hills, double back to the river somewhere west of here, and then swim across. Our supplies will get soaked, but this is the only way.”
“Swim,” echoed Johnny sardonically.
“Why do you think we are here right now? Of the group, you are the weakest swimmer. I wanted to remind myself how weak and see whether we will have a problem,” said Ramius.
“Well, how’d I do?” inquired Johnny with a look of puzzlement.
“Not as bad as I thought. I think we are ready. Let’s leave tomorrow.”
After a few more minutes in the sun, both men dove in and swam furiously back toward the island, Johnny trying to look respectable by keeping pace with Ramius. He was furious about anyone considering him a weak link.
The men journeyed onward to the other side of the river so that they could see the plantings and crop conditions.
Zeke was the man in charge of the farms and the experiments, and he was excited to see Ramius in particular.
“Ramius!” Zeke called out from a distance as he jogged over to meet the two men. “Ramius!” He was clearly excited and eager to receive them. “We heard about your trip.
Everyone is talking about it. It is a miracle. Are we really going to relocate to new lands?”
“Yes, Zeke. We will for certain,” Ramius said, knowing full well that his answer was honest and yet completely deceitful. “Show me something,” Ramius blurted out to change the subject. Zeke went immediately to the R&D area, which was where both he and Ramius shared the greatest common interest. They would be trying a few different varieties of potatoes this year to determine which ones could be stored the longest. They would also see how long the potatoes could be left in the ground to further extend the potential life of the produce.
The other main interests were the varieties of grain, as well as which types produced bigger kernels and tasted better.
Zeke was very excited and proud of his important work, which would improve the lives of his people.
Back at the village that evening, Ramius returned to his cabin, after meeting with Marco to announce his departure. He was greeted by his four comrades, who were already running through their inventory of provisions.
They had two bows with bunches of arrows, as the trip would require them to hunt for survival this time. In addition, they would not be able to carry flour—only coarse grains and seeds that would need to be dried immediately after crossing the river. The biggest weight penalty of all was having to carry potatoes, which were heavy. This would slow down their normal pace, but to move swiftly, which they were accustomed to doing, they needed high-energy foods.
Ana and the other wives helped them and worked to prepare a good meal that evening, as the men would leave at first light to minimize possible encounters, both human and animal. The young Ramius Junior looked on with fascination.
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