Traveller - L.W. Samuelson (free e books to read online TXT) 📗

the cougar knew a meal when he smelled one. The cat also knew the rhythm of the creature. Like most animals, it holed up at night and during the day, moving about in the mornings and evenings. The cougar cub followed his prey back to its lair that morning. Once he was sure where the strange creature was, he circled around to the top of the rock outcropping overlooking its trail and waited.
The sun came out that day banishing the clouds from the sky. It made the cougar's wait a pleasant day of napping on the bare red rock in the warm rays of light. The cat's hunger grew along with his anticipation as the sun traveled the sky and began to sink in the low western horizon. A whirr coupled with the crunch of crusted snow alerted the cougar causing him to crouch low on the edge of the rock. Every muscle tensed in anticipation of fresh flesh.
The creature emerged from the rock shuffling on the snow. The cat bunched all four legs; his muscle bundled into taut springs. When his prey was just at the right distance, the cougar jumped landing onto the beast's shoulders and driving him into the snow.
The cougar's claws dug and tore, but his blood lust wasn't satisfied. Only blue and white puffs of color were thrown into the air. In a frenzied attempt to kill, the cougar bit at the creature's head. Now the blood flowed, and the cougar tried to grasp and hold the creature so he could break its neck.

***

Traveller was just gliding away from the outcropping in the late afternoon when he was driven into the snow face first. He smelled the cougar before he realized it was tearing at his coat trying to tear him apart. The cat bit the back of his head causing an explosion of pain. He rolled sweeping the cougar off of him, but with lightening speed the cat dove for his face. When Traveller stiff-armed it, the cat bit at his hand and clawed his arm. The cat's teeth weren't able to penetrate the down coat but its claws gained purchase on his right wrist. He swung his left fist with all his might catching the cougar on the side of the head. The blow stunned the cat knocking it a few mezures away. The cat’s claws, embedded in his flesh, raked gashes down his arm.
Traveller rolled away again and got up. The pain caused the alien to explode with rage. Now, he became the aggressor. Kicking the snowshoes off, he charged the cat. It watched dazed and dull-eyed as its prey became the hunter. Before the cougar could regain its wits, Traveller picked it up and held it high in the air. The cat clutched at his arms ineffectually before he threw it into the snowy sage brush.
Snow exploded and branches cracked as the lion landed. Its wits returned when it realized the danger it danced with. Traveller's unexpected aggression prompted the cat to extricate itself from the brush and flee.
He ran after it, but after a few steps in the deep snow he realized the chase would prove futile. It was then that he saw the snow painted red with his blood. His wrist was bleeding and there was a hot stickiness flowing down the back of his neck. His coat, the coat Lori had given him, was torn and tattered into blue and white shreds.
Lization not the coat! What will I do now? I have to stop the bleeding. I know. Traveller sat down then pulled several shreds of nylon off of the coat before he took it off along with the flannel shirt underneath. He twined the strips together making a tourniquet, and then tied a knot around his upper arm. The nylon was pulled tight using his mouth and good hand until the blood flow lessened, but the flow down his back continued.
Pressure, I have to apply pressure. Traveller tore a piece of cloth from his flannel shirt then held it tightly against the bite wounds for a few minutes. Dizziness washed over him in waves. Quickly, he tied two pieces of the nylon coat together then wrapped it around his head to tie the flannel tightly against his wound using both the good hand and bad to tie the knot. The snow blurred, but he completed the task.
He stood up. Weak from the loss of blood, he staggered back toward the spaceship. The alien wobbled forward barely able to steady himself when he fell against the rock wall of the outcropping. Resting for a moment, he gathered himself for a final effort then pushed off from the rocks to stumble forward.
He staggered along the side of the ship until he arrived at the door. Traveller opened it, fell in, and then collapsed on the floor. Pulling himself into the ship, he closed the door and passed out.

It wasn't until Saturday morning that Traveller woke up, thirsty and weak. He searched for the day pack before remembering that it had been left outside. Too weak to stand, Traveller crawled to the synthesizer. Using the opening to pull himself up along the wall, he stood. "Computer, a glass of Blast," he ordered. A glass came down then filled with liquid. Several small swallows relieved the dryness.
It took all of his resolve to remain standing long enough to finish the drink. Placing the glass back, he said, "Water." The synthesizer whirred as clear liquid flowed. With glass in hand, he slid down the wall to sit and drink. Feeling slightly better with his body re-hydrated, Traveller fell over on his side and slept.

That afternoon Traveller awoke with a burning fever. His hand throbbed as well as the back of his head. Both were swollen with hot molten burning. He slid up the wall for more blast, another cup of water. The liquids brought no relief. Leaving the wall, the alien wobbled toward the cargo hold in an attempt to find the medical kit. His feet caught causing him to fall in a sprawl across the floor. Knowing that treating the wounds in time was crucial for survival, Traveller managed to get to his knees. The room spun, his stomach churned. He lost consciousness yet again collapsing on the floor drenched in sweat.


Chapter 22- Connected to a Benwarian

It was her last class of the week on Friday afternoon. Lori listened intently as Dr. Saraff discussed the social stratification of societies. According to him, every society in the world had segments of the population divided by wealth and power. He compared a country's social organization to the layers found in sedimentary rock. Those in control constituted the top layers while the poor and disenfranchised made up the bottom layers. In some nations the social classes were rigid with little upward mobility. According to Dr. Saraff, "If you are born an untouchable in India, you remain an untouchable. A rigid caste system deems them to be undesirables. The upper castes feel that touching someone in the lowest class is defiling. The social classes in India are determined by heredity. The poor remain poor while the rich inherit positions of power."
Dr. Saraff continued his explanation, "Even Americans live in a highly stratified society. There are generational memberships in the socioeconomic classes. The lower classes tend to remain poor while those in the upper classes exert undue influence over governmental and economic affairs. Even though the United States professes that it is a meritocracy, there is very little shifting from one class to another.
"However, I will say that some fluidity does exist in our society. Through education, hard work, or sometimes even luck, citizens in America can move upward. This is what we all know as the American Dream. The thought that one can move up in the hierarchy or become wealthy keeps people working and happy. Compared to other nations, our citizens have a great deal of upward mobility."
Lori was taking notes. She had just finished writing the word mobility when a sharp biting sensation slammed into the back of her head. She actually fell face first onto her notebook.
"Are you okay?" the professor asked.
She grabbed at the stabbing pain, sure she was bleeding since a hot sticky feeling ran down her back. Lori lifted her head, "I'm okay. It's just a sharp pain. I'm sure it will go away."
"As I was explaining, several societies have much more rigid social boundaries than the United States. For instance, Britain still retains vestiges of a noble class. People with pedigrees have a hand up on those in the working classes."
Lori screamed, dropped her pencil, and clutched her right wrist. She was postive that a powerful animal had just raked its claws deep into her lower arm. The excrutiating pain caused her to hold her hand against her chest.
"Miss? What's the matter?" asked the concerned professor.
"My wrist hurts," she said as an image of Traveller bleeding in the snow entered her mind. "I'm sorry." Lori grabbed her books despite the pain and exited the classroom running. In the hallway, she stopped to close her eyes. A vision of Traveller in a blue-shredded coat surrounded by blood-covered snow became almost tangible in her mind. She gasped, her heart rated spiked.

***

Jesse and Tim had corralled Bill into playing a game of three-on-three basketball with Willy's team. Willy had bugged Jesse for two weeks until he had finally agreed to the rematch. Willy and his friends still smarted from their loss in the finals of the tournament.
They met at four o’clock knowing the gym would be vacant on a Friday afternoon. “Man where’s dat Russian? Ain’t no way you all’s goin’ ta beat us without him,” Willy stated while the six players were dressing down in the locker rooms.
“Shoot Willy, we don’t need him. I taught him everything he knows about basketball,” countered Jesse.
“He all didn’t have dat many skills, he just have raw talent. That guy just wasn’t right, man. I swear he be all blue,” said one of the other players on Willy’s team.
“Dat’s right. I never see nobody jump like he did. He could fly,” said Willy.
“Well he might’ve been able to fly, man, but I can shoot,” Jesse bragged as he slammed his locker shut.
The game started with Jesse getting the ball at half court. He drove his man to the basket then pulled up at the foul line to shoot. The ball didn’t touch the cylinder, a loud swish sounded as his shot sailed true. “Two points,” Jesse said raising his arms.
It was the last basket his team would score for the next ten minutes. Willy’s team tightened their defense smothering Jesse, Bill, and Tim with their athleticism.The score of ten to two left the three of them wishing Traveller would magically appear.
Bill and Tim started setting outside screens with Jesse shooting the ball whenever a space opened up. He scored two more baskets countering the two scored by Willy’s team. The air was just escaping from Jesse’s confidence when a vision of Traveller lying bloody on white snow flashed in his mind. He stopped, giving up his dribble. The ball was snatched and thrown to Willy for a slam dunk.
“Come on Jesse. Get with the program!” shouted Bill.
Tim also stopped playing. He stood transfixed as he held the back of his head. “Dang that hurts,” he said holding both arms across the back of his head.
The game stopped. “What’s the matter with you two?” Bill asked.
Jesse walked over to Tim. “Are you seeing what I am?” he asked.
“Yeah, Traveller’s in trouble. He’s been mauled by something,” Tim replied.
“Let’s finish this game