John L. Hough
The fate of humanity weighed heavily on Bruce's conscience as he sat alone on a large
sandstone rock looking out over the village that he had been instrumental in creating so many years
ago. He had not asked for the responsibility. It had been thrust upon him, and now the true weight
of that responsibility was overwhelming. He eased into a new position on the rock to relieve the
stiffness in his old bones and allow the feeling to return to his legs. Unconsciously, he fingered a
loose bead at the bottom of his brightly colored breast plate that hung just passed his waist, covering
the top of the soft deer skin leather of his loin cloth. The breast plate signified his role as the chief,
a role he was about to hand over to David, a much younger man, a man that though well versed in
the duties of leading his people had no idea of the changes that were about to engulf his quiet little
village.
Aging fingers tugged relentlessly at the errant bead as his mind searched for answers that
were beyond his grasp. This project was mankind’s last hope for survival as a species, and he fears
he has not taught his children enough. Tormented by his thoughts, he wonders if he has taught them
enough to make it on their own.
At first it had been hard to believe that in this day and age anyone could live as his ancestors
had so many generations ago. Yet now, looking at the life around him flourishing in abundance, he
could barely remember any other form of existence. Before his eyes, large, elaborately decorated
tepees made of hide and lodgepole pines stretch out along the narrow clear stream that ebbed its way
through the village below, only to disappear abruptly through the rusty screen grating in the cold,
grey, two-foot thick concrete wall that made up one side of their world.
To the north of the village, the red sandy soil gave way to an outcropping of sandstone bluffs,
where several of the older children were checking snares that had been set to catch rabbits and other
small game. Above the bluffs, the ground leveled off to a flat mesa covered with cedar trees and
sage brush where the men of the village were hunting deer and cows for the next few days meat
supply. Even from this distance, he could see a scattering of pinion trees on the mesa which had
served them well in the past, providing large stores of pinion nuts to supplement their diets.
As Bruce let his gaze drift to the east beyond the camp, he surveyed the brushy, boulder-strewn
canyon with low sides and a well-worn trail winding along the flat sandy bottom. The side
of the canyon facing south was covered in buck brush, and he scrutinized the trails the women had
painstakingly cut through it to harvest the berries from the choke cherry bushes that grew in small
bunches scattered throughout the thicket. He watches as small girls carrying tightly woven baskets
stripped the delicate red berries. They laughed and talked of the things that all young girls think
about when they are free from the day to day routine of scraping and tanning hides, making clothing,
and preparing meals.
The side of the canyon facing to the north was covered mostly by a scrub oak thicket that
offered a bounty of acorns in the fall. The thicket continued over the top of the canyon and extended
for some distance to end abruptly at the south wall of their world where the stream ran through the
grating.
From his position, he observed several deer working through the thicket eating acorns while
on their way down to the stream for an afternoon drink. From off to the north a turkey gobbled,
plaintively calling for a mate. As Bruce let his ears see what his eyes could not, he could also make
out the sounds of quail, chukker, grouse, and of course chickens which were a staple part of the
villagers’ diet.
He scrutinized the area as he thought about his responsibility to all those who lived in the
village. Half naked children, numbering nearly a hundred now and ranging in age from babies to
young adults, and all his responsibility, could be seen everywhere he looked. Those are the children
of my children he thought to himself as he fought to hold his emotions in check, and there is nothing
more that I can do for them. The recently acquired knowledge that in a few days they would be
gone forever, brought a tear to his eye and put a lump in his throat. He watched, for what he was
sure would be the last time, as some of them played a game that he had taught their parents when
they were small. He could hear distant laughter as they played with a stick and a hoop made from
a green willow sapling. Spectators cheered on the sidelines as each team tried to roll the hoop to a
goal at opposite ends of the open field they were playing in. At times it was a rough game for the
smaller children, and they would get hit with a badly aimed swing of a stick intended to send the
hoop sailing along its path. Only a welt, or a small scratch with a trickle of blood would give away
the badly aimed swing, because crying was simply not allowed. It was just one more part of their
training, as were so many other small things that after so many years were now taken for granted.
A short distance away, he observed their mothers working the hides that would make their
future clothing, or grinding corn for their evening meals on stone metates worn smooth by years of
constant use. His own beloved wife Anna sat among those women. From where he sat, he saw the
light glistening off her silver hair, as fingers that were not as nimble as they had once been worked
diligently to sew a new shirt that would be worn with pride.
Occasionally a mother's watchful eye would catch the painful blow to one of the smaller
children, and she would bite her lip and look away. Even though she might want to comfort the
child, she knew it would not be allowed. This was the way they had been raised as children, and they
would raise their children in the same manner, to be strong, to survive. He knew now how the young
mothers felt when they were forced to set back and let their young children fend for themselves. A
feeling of helplessness and despair washed over him as he fought to control his emotions and do a
rational assessment of their progress. Whatever his feelings on the matter, he must be honest with
himself about their chances of survival.
His eyes followed the path out of the village to the fertile soil beneath his perch. Bruce
watched with a critical eye as young girls picked fresh corn, beans, tomatoes, and several varieties
of squash, and stuffed them in baskets to be taken back to the village for the evening meal, and he
wondered what life will be like for them without this perpetual garden to supplement their needs.
So peaceful was the village at this time of day, as it basked in the soft light that filtered
through the opaque glass of the domed roof covering the entire structure, that Bruce often came to
this same solitary vantage point to search his soul and seek guidance from the spirits as well as from
within. This was the one place he could go to be alone with his thoughts. As the tribe's leader, he
had long ago had the foresight to set aside this spot as a holy place for the chief to counsel with the
spirits.
Today, however, he wasn't having much success finding the answers to his problems, and
he was running out of time. He was afraid that he would be returning to his lodge, no closer to a
satisfactory conclusion to ease the foreboding feelings that plagued his thoughts. Many times he
had come here lately, only to achieve the same results, and now as always, he was preparing to leave
with the same nagging questions and fears that brought him here in the first place.
The hunters would be returning to the village soon because it was almost time for the
automatic sprinkler system to deliver the daily afternoon rain that sustained their crops, and he had
no desire to be caught in the downpour. Like always they would be bringing fresh meat when they
came. He was proud of the skills they had learned, and the way they worked together for the good
of the people. It had been many years since he had participated in the hunts, but the older men of
the hunting parties always made sure that he and the medicine man both had plenty of fresh meat
for their cooking fires. For that matter, they made sure that everyone in the village was well fed.
Bruce enjoyed coming here to be alone with his thoughts, and his mind reeled as his life’s
work was about to be passed on to his children. This was one of the few places where he could
communicate with the controllers without the fear of being interrupted, but today he felt no desire
to talk to anyone. He stared at a fake rock fitted with an intercom system that allowed him to
communicate with the chief of operations. At those times, his people thought him to be silently
meditating. At worst, if someone got close enough to hear him speaking, they would assume that
he was speaking to the spirits.
Only the elders of the tribe were aware of the surveillance cameras that were strategically
placed throughout the compound, in fact, they were the only ones on the inside that knew it was a
carefully controlled environment.
He wandered how sixty-four years of his life had slipped away so quickly and was beginning
to feel the weight of his years, as well as the emotional strain of the responsibility he had undertaken
so long ago. It had been forty years since the government official had met with him, back in college,
to persuade him to take a position here as a teacher. They had offered him a huge salary to entice
him to join the project, and being a Native American, he found it intriguing that they wanted him
to teach anthropology, or more precisely, Native American living on a practical use level. It was
well into the twenty-first century, and with the severe pollution problem, and the depletion of the
ozone layer, good food was in short supply, and people everywhere were talking of going back to
the basics. Only after he had arrived at the compound, had he learned the truth.
The entire planet was dying. Not the planet itself, because nature has a way of adapting to
change and healing herself, if given the chance, but the people could not adapt so easily. The
population of the planet had exploded early in the twenty-first century, and by the time he graduated
from collage in 2048 land was at a premium, and food had replaced the gold standard. Famine,
influenza, heart disease, cancer, and a hundred other deadly diseases were sweeping through the
world like a plague. Undoubtedly widespread drug use, and the HIV virus, along with all the
chemicals the government allowed to be put into the food for the last hundred years, had contributed
to the deterioration of the human immune system.
He had been brought to this place, in southeastern Utah, where a nuclear waste facility under
construction had been converted into a life support system. Once inside, he was amazed to find that
it did not house the leaders of the nation, or even the great minds of medicine and science. The only
inhabitants were forty of the healthiest babies in the country, and a team of doctors, scientists, and
computer technicians who would operate the structure from the unseen chambers that had been built
underground and adjacent to the exterior walls.
Large stockyards, filled with cattle, deer, and elk lined one side of the facility, to be turned
loose inside as needed to sustain the herds, that would in turn feed the growing population. Grain
bins held large stores of seeds for the crops that would be needed to supplement their diets and teach
them to be growers and gatherers.
Now sitting inside this terrarium, where each side measured only two miles in length, he
thought about how he and five others had raised those babies into adulthood with children of their
own, while the population of the world had died around them. Each member of his team had been
carefully selected for their expertise in a given area, and had been brought to the facility under the
same premiss. Once there, none of them were given the option of leaving. Bruce recalled how he
had been chosen for his knowledge of the desired life style and leadership abilities. Arthur was
chosen for his skill as a herbalist and healer, and Ben for his skill with the flint as a primitive
weapon and tool maker. Together with their wives, they had raised these children as well as a few
of their own. It had been an overwhelming task at first, but as the children got older, life became
almost euphoric.
In the beginning, some of the control staff helped with the crops and slaughtering of game
animals, but as the children started to grow, they helped less and less, always staying out of sight.
The children learned to do for themselves at an early age, working side by side with the adults. The
boys did male designated work, and the girls did female designated work, with the exception of
learning to hunt small game and gather food, which would be a vital tool of survival. All of the little
ones were taught these techniques together until the age of twelve or thirteen. When puberty started
to kick in, their roles became well defined, and strictly monitored.
They never spoke of the things beyond the walls, for it was forbidden. Instead, they had
taught their children to make spears, as well as bows and arrows to hunt with, and how to gather the
food that nature provided. From the time they were big enough to walk and talk they, learned how
to use a throwing stick to bring down small game such as rabbits and squirrels. It was a simple
weapon, a small stick the length of one’s forearm from the elbow to the tip of the outstretched finger
and as big around as the wrist. Raised over the head and brought quickly forward with a quick flick
of the wrist, it could be thrown with deadly accuracy for a distance of ten paces.
They taught their children the ways of the Cheyenne and the Sioux, and about tribal
leadership, and the responsibilities of that leadership to insure the survival of the people at any cost.
Bruce had taken on the roll of storyteller, and told stories of the old days, of brave men, and brave
deeds in the wilderness, and even though they seemed like something out of the imagination of an
old man to them now, soon his children would understand.
They had taught their children nothing of the basic knowledge of mankind, or the technology
that maintained their very existence. They knew nothing of the people or machinery that controlled
the world as they knew it, and he had intended to keep it that way. But none of that mattered now.
The time of truth had come, and the doubts began to nag at the back of his mind. Had they done
enough, would they be able to make it on their own? Or was he sending them like sheep to the
slaughter in the largest experimental failure in history.
A few days earlier, he had spoken to John Maitres, the officer in charge of the project, and
had been informed that it was time to proceed with the next phase.
He had been told that the Air Force pilot assigned to fly surveillance for the project had died
in a fiery crash several years earlier but every radio frequency available had been checked and
double checked without establishing contact with anyone. Even the two sister projects to this one
had lost contact several years earlier and were presumed to have failed. They could not be sure
there were no pockets of survivors scattered across the land, but the facility itself was wearing out
with no hope of repair. Even most of the control-team was succumbing to the effects of living on
the outside during the time of death and disease, and running the complex was more of a burden
than the surviving members could keep up with.
And that was not the only problem which they had to deal with very soon. With twenty-four
of his children being women with an average of five children of their own, the facility was quickly
becoming too small. The idea had been to live like the Anasazi or the plains Indians before the
encroachment of the white man, but instead of dying in their thirties or forties, these people were
still well within their prime and having babies at the age of forty. And now that the older members
of the second generation were reaching their twenties, some of them were beginning to have babies
of their own. The older women had taught the young mothers to breast-feed their children for the
first three years of their life as a way to make them healthier, though the major objective was to slow
the birth rate as much as possible. Once outside, they would explain it to the older women, and they
could use the technique as they saw fit.
Sanitation had also been a problem for several years. Even though he had taught them to dig
latrines, and they moved their camp on a regular basis, they were running out of places to move. It
was time to make the ultimate gamble. Not one life, or even many, but the human race as a whole
was now in the hands of those they had raised. If they were successful, humans would once again
flourish to dominate the world. If not, mankind would be erased from the face of the earth forever.
Tomorrow he must find a way to tell his children, for surely they were his children, of a
world totally unknown to them, a world that could be cruel and savage, unlike anything they had
ever experienced. It was the moment he had been preparing for, for more than forty years, and still
he wasn't ready.
Sure, the controllers had supplied them with enough cattle and deer to hunt, but there were
many other animals out there that they had never seen. From what the controllers had told him, the
death and disease were mainly confined to the human population and having little effect on the
animals. It was only fair, he thought to himself, that man should be the one to suffer the tragedies
of his own making. He had told them stories about bears and lions and packs of wild dogs, trying
to prepare them for the future, but as they grew older the stories carried no more weight than the
stories of the boogie man from his own youth.
The more he thought about it, the more he realized that they had made too much of a
paradise of this place and not taught them enough of the realities which they would face once out
on their own. It was a short-sighted lapse of judgment, due to the urgent need for their survival, and
now they would have to live with the consequences, if they could.
"It is difficult for any father to let go," he mumbled to himself, "but there are so many
children to let go of at one time."
And then the sprinklers came on, sending down the afternoon rain. "Shit," he said out loud,
angry at himself for being so lost in thought that he was caught in the downpour, and for the one
word of profanity that had stuck with him all these years. Anna had done everything in her power
to get him to stop using that particular word, but on occasion, it shot forth like it had a spirit of its
own. Like many of the other human short comings, such as selfishness, prejudice, violence, theft
and lying, profanity was one of the things that the children, whom he lovingly called, The Chosen
Ones, had never been exposed to.
"Well," he said mumbling to himself as he slid off of the rock and headed toward his own
tepee, "What did they expect? Nobody's perfect."
Loose strands of wet hair clung to his face as small rivulets of water ran down his back. As
he stepped from rock to rock, crossing the small stream, he carefully made his way toward the other
side. The rain had made the surface of one particular stone in the middle of the creek especially
slick, causing him to lose his balance and land flat on his butt in the frigid water that now came up
to his armpits.
"Shit!"
He struggled to his feet trying to find solid footing in the rocky creek bed and worked his
way to the far shore. Then looking around to see how many of his children had witnessed the
incident he realized it didn't matter. Tomorrow they would all be gone and still wouldn't know the
meaning of the word, while he and the four surviving elders would be left behind, to die old and
alone. "Shit!"
David slowly inched closer as the huge metal door slid open to reveal a strange new world
he hadn't known existed until this morning. His whole life, his training, and everyone he had ever
known had been contained in this four-mile square terrarium and there had never been anything else.
As he tentatively stepped into the cool morning, for the first time in his life a gentle breeze
tugged at his wavy blond hair and his senses began to run wild. For the first time he felt the sun's
warmth on his nearly naked body as it rose in the east and washed away the goose bumps on his bare
skin leaving it stretched smoothly over taunt muscles. At six feet, David’s well-muscled frame was
imposing, even to those who had grown up with him, but once outside he felt smaller, no longer in
control of his surroundings. His nostrils flared as he sniffed at the air like a hound on the hunt, and
a multitude of strange fragrances, separate, and mixed, fought for his attention. His eyes darted back
and forth trying to take in all of the strangeness of the landscape that was the same, yet totally
different, without end.
His breath caught in his throat as he witnessed his first sunrise with brilliant lights and colors
coming over the mountains in a fiery orange ball, and he felt the dew in the grass on his bare feet.
The trees were a different color of green under the direct light of the sun, and he shaded his eyes
from the glare that he was unaccustomed to until his pupils had a chance to adapt. The air felt
unusually brisk, burning his sinuses as he hungrily sucked it in, but the freshness of it was sweet as
honey in his lungs. A coyote howled in the distance and was answered by his mate from her
concealment in the nearby trees with an eerie yip yip yowl that prickled the hairs on the back of his
neck. A bald eagle soared overhead, and a long dead emotion rose in the back of his mind, far
beyond memory, from the depths of his very being, and for the first time, even though he couldn’t
comprehend all that he was seeing, David knew he was alive.
Hundreds of questions ran wild in his head as he watched his father, teacher, and lifelong
companion, Bruce, walk out into the open as if it were a natural occurrence. There were so many
things he wanted to know, but questions of this nature had never been allowed. He still remembered
the severe reprimand he had gotten as a child for trying to find out what was on the other side of the
walls that had made up his world.
"It's so beautiful," he said almost in a whisper as he walked out to stand in the open, next
to Bruce. "Why have you kept it from us for so long?"
"We need to talk," Bruce said, placing a hand on his shoulder to lead him down a narrow
path through the grass and sage.
They walked toward a small rise covered with Cedar and Pinon trees while Bruce struggled
with himself for a way to start. David stared in amazement, as a large flock of geese flew overhead
in a V formation that pointed to their summer nesting grounds in a far off land he couldn’t imagine.
Bruce had known all along that this day of explanation was coming, but somehow the speech he had
memorized long ago seemed inappropriate now. How could he explain the workings of the universe
to someone who didn’t know that it even existed, and do it in such a short amount of time? He
steadied himself for the barrage of questions that were sure to follow, the nagging doubts in the back
of his mind began to resurface.
Where there once had been, thick flowing raven hair, now hung two thinning gray braids that
showed the toll taken on Bruce since starting the project. His bronze face was plucked clean of the
sparse whiskers in the tradition of his ancestors, a habit that only a few of his children had adopted.
His face, somewhat drawn with age still reflected the pride he held for his children and his
accomplishments within the project. He was strong for his age, but today he felt weak and helpless,
saying goodby to his children.
His background in archeology, and his Native American heritage, along with his disgust of
the way progress had ruined his world, made him the perfect teacher for this new generation. He
had jumped at the chance to start a new line of the original Native American culture, but now that
it was time to send them off on their own, it was ripping his heart out, and he wasn't sure about
anything.
"David," he started, finally finding his voice, and forcing the lump down out of his throat.
"I guess the only way to do this is the plain, hard truth."
"What truth?" David was incredulous, still trying to understand what was happening to his
world. "Have you not always been honest with us?"
"As much as I could, but now it's time for you to know of those things you were never
allowed to talk about." He knew it wouldn't be easy to explain all the things David needed to know
and he cursed himself for not preparing the younger man over a much longer period.
"What things?"
"Where you came from, who your parents were, and what is expected of you now."
David was stunned. He didn't know where to start. "And this, what is all of this?"
"Utah, or at least it was a long time ago. See those mountains over there," Bruce was
pointing to the east. "That's southern Colorado. I lived there as a child."
"You lived outside of the world?" David asked, unable to imagine what life would be like
without boundaries.
"The outside is the world. The inside is a life support system where you have all been
trained for the purpose of repopulating the planet."
"If this is true, why didn't you tell us before? We could have come outside and learned of
the things we don’t understand."
"I'm sorry David, but we had to wait until the time was right."
David sat quietly staring at the high mountains to the east trying to make sense of the
overwhelming information that was changing his life forever. His whole life he had trusted Bruce
without question, but now things were happening to fast. Bruce and the other elders had withheld
so much, and he felt that a large part of his life was lost forever.
David struggled to push his emotions aside. Whatever Bruce had done in the past had always
been for the benefit of the people, and now he owed it to his father to let him have a chance to
explain. "Are there others like you, living outside?"
"There are others," Bruce said, noting the restraint that David was using on himself. That
was just one of the many reasons that he had been chosen to come out first. "But they are not like
me. They are the controllers that monitor and operate the life support systems. The elders of this
tribe were chosen at the same time to be the teachers. Our job was to show you how to survive out
here when the time came to move back outside."
"Were there others that lived outside long ago?"
"When I was small, everyone lived outside, before the sickness came." Bruce knew he had
to be careful not to give David more information than necessary. Anything more would be
counterproductive.
"What sickness?"
"No one knows for sure. Some said it was because the Ozone layer in the atmosphere was
destroyed, but I think a lot of different things just got out of hand. Anyway, people started dying
by the hundreds, then by the thousands."
"What are thousands? I don't think I have ever heard that word."
"It's more than you can imagine. It's like," he paused for a moment trying to find a way of
making a comparison that David could understand. "It's like all of the leaves on that oak tree over
there."
"There were that many people when you were a child?"
"No. That’s what a thousand is. When I was a child there were so many people it would be
like all the leaves on all the trees you can see."
"How is that possible? That many people would not fit in the world."
"What you see here is only a small part of the world. Beyond each mountain you will see
more land, different land, with different plants and animals. The world is round, and this valley is
only a small part of it just as this one leaf is only a small part of this tree. Anyway these are things
you will find out for yourself. Now where was I?"
"You said people were dying by the thousands."
"Oh yes. That's when the government built this place. It was going to be a nuclear waste
facility, but. . ." He saw the look in David’s eyes, as he realized what he said, and before the younger
man could form the question he said, "don't ask. Anyway, they converted it to a life support post
instead. In the beginning there were three such places in this country but we lost contact with the
other two several years ago, so now it is up to you."
"How did I get here?" David's mind was reeling. There were so many questions to ask.
"You were one of the lucky ones. The leaders searched out the healthiest babies they could
find, checking the family backgrounds for cancer, heart disease, and other illnesses that might be
genetically passed down. If none were found, as in your case, the baby was taken to one of these
facilities. Anyone that developed a serious illness was taken out of the program to protect the
others."
"What about our families? What happened to them when we were taken away?"
"They were happy to give you the chance to live. They knew what their fate was, and what
yours would be if they kept you."
"So there is just us, and the controllers left to repopulate all this." He was starting to warm
up to the idea that all of this now belonged to the people.
"No. Just you and the others you grew up with. The controllers will stay here. They're not
as healthy as us. I can't even talk to them face to face for fear of spreading some disease they might
have. When you leave here, you must go far away and never come back."
"What about you? Aren't you going with us when we leave?"
"I'm not sure. It hasn't been decided yet."
David felt a twinge of self doubt for the first time. "You have to go with us. There's so
much we have to learn."
"That's part of the problem. There's so much that we know from the past that we don't want
you to learn."
"Why?"
"It's called technology. That's what killed this planet forty years ago. We're hoping to start
a new society with a simple, peaceful existence. That’s what you have been trained for all your life"
"I don't know if we can make it without you. How strong is a tribe without its elders?"
"You'll be fine. You know how to hunt and spear fish, and you know how to tell which plants
are good to eat. Just save some food back for winter and you won't have any problems."
"Ok," David said, with a perplexed look on his face. "What's winter?"
"It's . . . Oh my God. You don't know what winter is, or floods, or tornados, or any of natures
nasty little habits. We were so worried about keeping you healthy in the terrarium, we didn't teach
you how to survive under harsh circumstances. Every day was like spring."
"You can teach us now, before we go."
"There is not enough time. The support system is wearing out and there's no one to repair
it. We'll have to go with you. The controllers can't deny it any longer."
"So when will we go?"
"Tomorrow. You're their leader now. I've been helping you along but it comes natural to
you. You think things through and make good decisions. That's why I brought you out first. A chief
should know what he is getting his people into. Tonight, Arthur will perform the ceremony, and I
will pass the right of leadership down to you."
"But you're the Chief. You know so much more than me." All of the new information
combined with the responsibility of taking over the leadership of the people was nearly too much
for his mind to deal with at one time.
"You are young and strong, and will have me to counsel you when the need arises. A new
people, need a young chief that will be around a long time. Someone who can lead them through
strange new lands and help them prosper and grow."
"I will do my best," he said, feeling a little less confident than he should but trying hard to
hide those feelings from Bruce.
"Good. Let's go back inside and you can tell your people to prepare for a long journey."
Together they strolled back toward the facility. Neither man spoke as David concentrated
more on the surroundings of his new life. The sun was nearly overhead as they reached the steel
door, and he couldn’t help noticing that it was considerably warmer outside. As he stepped into the
relative shade of the complex, a feeling of being closed in, that he had never experienced, eased into
his consciousness, and he realized that he wanted to be outside again. To be where the colors were
more vibrant, the air was fresh with each new breath, and the animals seemed to be more . . . What
was the word he was looking for? Alive. Yes, that was it. The animals did seem to be more alive on
the outside.
As Bruce left to make arrangements with the medicine man for the ceremony that would take
place at the council fire that evening, a bemused David stared at the closing door trying to capture
in his mind forever the sights he had witnessed beyond its bounds. He wondered how the Elders of
the tribe could knowingly keep such beauty from them for so long? He struggled to sort out his
thoughts. So many new concepts had been hurled at him at once that his mind raced to store the
facts in the proper place of his well-organized life. Until now their existence had depended on only
the things within the world as they knew it, and David knew every inch of that world. Now that
security had been ripped away, and in the warm afternoon a shiver ran the full length of his spine
causing goose bumps on his back and arms. He realized for the second time today he was feeling
a strange new emotion, fear, fear of the unknown dangers that lie waiting beyond these protective
walls, and a greater fear of being contained within them.
His world had never felt small and confining as it did now, but within minutes of the door
closing, his lungs begged for the clean fresh air and his eyes to see again the vivid colors beyond the
wall. He steeled himself taking in several deep breaths and prepared to tell the others what he now
knew.
People began to gather as David walked into the village. Instantly they were hurling
questions at him faster than he could answer them, and he didn’t try. He walked to a small mound
just outside the village that elevated him slightly above the gathering crowd. With a sweeping
motion of his right arm, and a single word, "Sit," spoken in a deep commanding tone, he took
control of the situation.
David began to relate what he had seen. He didn’t tell them that Bruce was turning the
leadership of the tribe over to him because he felt that Bruce should do that himself. Besides, he was
still quite uncomfortable with his new position. He tried to describe the sights and sounds for the
eager ears that surrounded him, and even though they were mesmerized by his words, he knew he
was not doing the world outside any justice. He said nothing of his fears or doubts, only the beauty
and vastness that he had seen. He wanted them excited about the adventure, and eager to experience
the new found world. The last thing he needed was for them all to feel the knots of apprehension
that were churning away in his stomach as he spoke.
When Bruce sent word around for all the lodges to be dismantled and for preparations for
a move to be made, the crowd quickly dispersed and set to work. Tonight they would sleep in the
open, if they could sleep at all, and get an early start in the morning. The level of excitement in the
air had reached a fever pitch as the village was dismantled.
As darkness fell, Arthur lit the council fire, and people rushed to take their places. The elders
sat cross-legged closest to the fire while the others formed a half circle around them with the oldest
generation sitting closest to them, and the next generation farther out. Children sat with their
parents, and the entire tribe waited impatiently for Bruce to come take his position as chief.
Anna stopped David on his way to the fire. She couldn’t have loved him more if she had
given birth to him herself. The mother’s love that she felt for all the children was strong, but David
saw a special pride in her eyes as she handed him the new shirt that she had been making, and
hugged him tightly as he bent to kiss her on the cheek.
"What is this mother?" he asked holding the shirt up for appraisal.
"It’s for the ceremony. I thought our new chief should have a new shirt. Now put it on, and
let me see how it looks."
David slipped the shirt on, and was amazed at how accurate his mother’s eye still was. It was
a perfect fit even though it had been a long time since his mother had made any clothes for him.
That responsibility had fallen to his wife Janet more than twenty years earlier, and no one else had
made clothes for him since.
"We’re glad you like it," Janet said, stepping up beside her husband to slide an arm around
his waist, "and there is a new pair of leggings to go with it."
David tied on the new leggings and felt somewhat conspicuous for the event that was about
to take place. It was his preference to wear only the traditional breach cloth and moccasins, except
when hunting in the thick brush when more clothing could be worn to protect the body from injury
and scratches.
"You knew about this, didn’t you?" David said turning to his wife. The realization struck
him that if she had helped with the making of the new garments, then she would have known what
they were for. Women were notorious for keeping secrets among themselves while the men of the
village were totally oblivious to what was going on.
"Who, me?" she giggled as she squeezed him around the neck.
"As your new chief, my first order to you is that you will not keep any secrets from me." He
laughed, knowing how far an order like that would have gotten Bruce, and sure in his own mind, that
he would fare no better.
David stood at the edge of the firelight, at the outside edge of the half circle, as Bruce had
instructed him, waiting to be called to the fire. When Bruce announced the change in power, only
a small murmur passed through the crowd. Apparently, nearly all of the adults had known about the
change, and he was the only one it was kept secret from. He walked to the fire, and Bruce
ceremoniously took the intricately beaded breastplate from around his own neck, and hung it around
David’s, to lie on his chest over his new shirt. He would wear it from now on, whenever he was
outside his lodge, to signify his leadership, and his responsibility to the tribe.
Susan, the medicine man’s wife, started beating the rhythmic cadence on the drum, as her
husband Arthur came out of the shadows to dance and whirl around the fire. Like Bruce, Arthur and
the rest of the elders were Native American, with richly dark brown skin. His snow-white hair, rarely
braided anymore, hung loosely about his shoulders. His overly slender frame exposed joints at the
knees and elbows that looked to large for his body. A hatchet-thin face with a long beak-shaped
nose, combined with hands that were beginning to show the effects of arthritis, gave him an
unworldly look that added a lot to the mystic rituals that he preformed as medicine man.
David watched the medicine man dance with more awe than usual, as this dance affected
him personally. He held his breath as the old man nearly stumbled, coming down from a twirling
leap, but Arthur recovered, and no one else seemed to notice. Maybe it was just him, he thought, but
he wanted this ceremony to go perfectly, and if Arthur had fallen, it would have shrouded his new
position with doubts. Not only his own, but everyone in the village would have doubts about
following a man that the spirits would show that kind of disfavor to.
When the dance was done, Bruce clasped a hand on his shoulder, and said, "My Chief.
Tomorrow you will lead us to a new land."
It was settled. There was no turning back now. It had been made official in front of the entire
village, and the fate of the people rested on his shoulders. It didn’t seem like such a heavy weight
now, but he would hold judgment on that until they had been out in the real world for a while.
