Life as a New Hire Ch. 27

The steady dim luminescence of the cavern was being equaled by the pre-sunrise haze ricocheting through the front cut-back entrance. I had really fallen into a light asleep. I was also now really looking at a geared-up 'Rachel's sister'. She was frozen in mid-reach for Aya and me, her eyes casting around my surroundings.

Oh, I had my Glock in my hand, pointed at her. Everyone had a weapon out and pointed at the Amazon except Charlotte, who seemed surprised by the crisis, and Aya, who was just rousing from her slumber.

"Good morning, Genève," Aya yawned. "Is it reveille already?"

"Yes," Genève (aka Rachel's younger sister) answered carefully.

"Can anyone tell me why I'm pointing my pistol at this woman, where the hell I am, and when this howling tornado is going to pass by?" Virginia groaned. That was the siren whisper of a cranium-cracking hangover.

My best guess was a cascading set of reflexes. Once one of our snoozing group's peripheral awareness picked up on Genève, the guns had come out, leading the rest to do the same.

"We rock," Pamela chortled. "Even the babe three-quarters toward some violent vomiting drew down and didn't engage."

On cue, Virginia gulped then held her breath. Her eyes started to bug out. Delilah tossed our tin bucket to Priya, who was closest to our suffering FBI gal. She steadied the bucket and helped pull back Virginia's hair as the dry heaves began. Poor Virginia had guzzled her booze before eating last night.

"Let's gopher breakfast," Delilah smirked. "Know what I mean?"

"Know what I mean?" Pamela winked.

"Nudge, nudge," I nudged a confused Miyako.

"Wink, wink," Delilah snorted.

"Follow me?" I giggled. Nothing like a Monty kick-start to make the morning worthwhile.

"Say no more," Pamela finished it off.

"The next one to speak above a whisper," Virginia rasped, "I'm going to put a bullet in." She punctuated that threat by waving her Glock about blindly while her face returned to the pail.

Pamela, Delilah (by silent consensus, she'd been sentenced to probationary renegade status) and I behaved, mainly because we liked to see the apprehension in those around us waiting for our abrupt lapse into irrational antics. The whole camp ate as one, which forced more than half of the 500 campers and 300 counselors to eat outside. That explained the dining hall's open setup.

Everyone was able to see everyone else. For Amazons, personal recognition was important. It had been a cornerstone of their society since the European Diaspora in the 8th century CE. No maps existed with the location of the freeholds, so Amazons would wander around the general area until a patrolling Amazon found them. It usually took less than one week.

The patrol would see at least one Amazon they recognized. With them would be younger, unknown Amazons. Five years down the road, it would be the younger ones recognizing each other...and on and on. It was not lost on me that I was made part of a social convention never before shared with a man, and it was done seamlessly.

It wasn't all love and kisses. I had my detractors, but so did Loraine. Europa had racked up even more, but she seemed to revel in the negative attention. Aya's situation was more confusing. She was in the pre-twelve crowd, yet had picked up four unofficial guardians. Zarana, Vaski and the rest of the quartet had thrown up a 'these tiny bitches are with us' vibe.

Being the smallest in their age group, they were protected by fourteen year olds. No pre-teen could match that. The counselors? They didn't care. Social bonding was the other half of the camp experience. You would make friends and enemies. It was natural. Promoting rivalries enhanced their competitive drives. This was not a 'now hug and make up' philosophy.

If you lost, the Amazon credo was 'try harder next time'. It also was 'eat fast because in fifteen minutes we are leaving, finished or not'. Virginia was shanghaied into working with Loraine's group. Her task was to do Q&A for the girls soon to be exposed to the larger world ... while the troop went through their regular routine. Our Fed was going to be aching by the time this day turned to night.

Delilah was given a choice - a post-twelve group, or hand to hand instruction. At the mention of the second option, she sprang up, grasp arms with the Amazon making the offer and gave her a shit-eating grin.

"You line them up and I'll knock them down," she chuckled.

Caprica wanted to give Pamela and Miyako the same choices as Delilah. Pamela 'suggested' that she'd like to 'go exploring' - just she and Miyako. The implication was that no matter what Caprica said, those two were going to do what they were going to do, aka the Lone Phaser and Photonto. They were stripping away my bodyguards and no one raised a stink about it.

(The Hunt)

For me, Rachel, Mona and Priya, it was javelina hunting time. Let's see. I had no outdoor hunting skills, unless you counted being 'twelve "Sam Adams" sheets to the wind, hammered and stalking a moose with a blunt, household tool' as experience. My first lesson was recognizing what javelina hoof prints looked like. Javelina basics came next.

They roamed in packs/herds depending on what level of aggression they were feeling that day. Whichever Amazon said they were 'small', must have often confused rhinos with Shetland ponies too. Class number three was making sure I could shoot a bow. Unless personally in danger, or saving another Amazon's life, unsilenced weapons fire was not allowed.

No one was sure how effective a tomahawk would be, so bows it was. Well, I could shoot a bow. Could I hit a javelina on the run? Let's say I was glad I was taking some power bars, jerky and fruit for lunch, and just leave it at that. Class four was horsemanship. I had ridden a horse a time or two...most likely two.

If you can make love on a beach, you can screw around in hay, unless you, or your partner, are allergic. I was shown how to approach my mare properly, make myself familiar to her, gently groom her and finally how to affix the blanket, tack and Asian saddle properly. When I finished my first attempt, my instructor punched me playfully.

"And you said you didn't know horses," she grinned. Even my mare was shooting me a 'you rock, buddy'. Since a two hour time slot had taken thirty-two minutes, we got an early start. Rachel and Mona tried, and failed, to hide their worry for me. As part of the Freddy Kruger bonus plan, being an unnatural-born horseman saved me a truckload of thigh pain.

When we headed out, it was a pleasant 69F/20.5C. The resident climatologist predicted a high of 95F/35C and so little humidity that we were guaranteed desiccation if we stood still long enough. Dot Ishara must have put in a good word for me with Inara the Huntress. Javelinas were rare this far north (north of what, Priya wouldn't say), so we were fortunate to find an extended family unit of ten within three hours of searching.

It was definitely an unfortunate day to be a collared peccary (that's gringo for javelina). Our hunting party caught them crossing a broad shallow wash with little cover; the closest being a clump of disruptive Gamble Oaks (a big bush, not a tree). The previously established plan was to dismount quietly when we drew close, Mona would then hold the horses and the rest of our party would stalk them into the scrub.

Our targets couldn't stand still and hide every time they felt a predator was close by. They had to eat and gain as much water from the desert flora as they could. If they were spooked, the peccaries would freeze. Their ears would search about for any suspicious noises. If they heard nothing for a minute or two, the herd returned to rooting and eating.

When they stopped, we stopped, or so the instructions went. I saw the six adults and four javelina-ettes, considered the suggested speed of my prey, the distance they had to cross to make the impenetrable brush, and the speed my mare could achieve in that time, then leaned forward on my mount while squeezing my knees.

I did this for no reason I initially understood, but my mare, Peppermint, got the message loud and clear. She was of the traditional Amazon breed, similar to the Turkish Akhal-Teke, built for long travels over the steppe and semi-arid plateaus of Central Asia. My mount had raced across this landscape for seven years now, so she knew what shrubbery she could push through and which she had to dodge around.

Of greater importance at the moment, she also knew the orders I was transmitting by body language alone far better than I did. She didn't leap forward and give my designated dinner fare a warning. Instead she picked up her pace incrementally, fixing our destination and plotting her best course. The reins found themselves wrapped around my saddle horn with plenty of leeway.

My bow was in my hand with an arrow notched before I could consciously replace intention with action. My archery tool of convenience was a heavy draw weight - sixty pounds - composite, recurve bow. It was old, lovingly maintained and probably dated back to the 1950's. I am a pretty big guy. The Amazon who had this bow crafted had to be damn scary... or even scarier.

It was beautiful in its simplicity - absent of any ornamentation. I shifted my body to the left, tapped Peppermint and she picked up her pace. The javelinas squealed when they realized their danger. The race was on and they were much too far from any sanctuary. I loosed my first arrow, but missed. The mare picked up the pace, homing in on the large male peccary I had selected. I began to panic. What the hell was I doing?

I could barely take a horse past a canter, hit anything accurately with a bow beyond twenty meters, and never attempted the two together. Yet here I was role-playing the exploits of my Magyar ancestors. Peppermint began losing direction. My thoughts were chaos. A sane man would have slowed his mount and let the others catch up. Our original plan could still work.

We could surround the thicket and flush them out. 'There is always a current flowing through the chaos', filtered through my confusion 'if you know what to look for'. I am an idiot. I am a madman. I let go. It all worked. I didn't feel my mount beneath me, I felt her hoofs pushing through the thin layer of sand to the rock beneath. One - two - three - four legs in motion. I didn't breath - we breathed.

There was virtually no wind. The javelina was about to break to the right, racing for my off-side. I knew and so did my mare. The second arrow wasn't lethal, but it would be fatal. My third arrow went from quiver to hand flawlessly. Equally flawless was Peppermint pulling aside the collared peccary. We both sensed the animal's preparation to dodge left.

I was tracking that fraction of a centimeter ahead when I loosed my bolt. He was dead before his snout plowed into the dirt two meters from safety. Peppermint's abrupt halt nearly tossed me off. She wasn't charging into the oaks no matter how hungry I was for pseudo-pig meat. As I turned in my saddle, searching for the next javelina, I had a fourth arrow notched.

Priya was pumping her bow and whooping some sort of huntress's paean. Several meters back and to my left was a smaller, very dead peccary with an arrow's shaft barely visible behind one ear.

"How old were you when your people first taught you to ride?" she rode up and clapped me on the shoulder.

"When we were briefed on you, they made it sound as if the Magyar had been 'civilized'." If there was any doubt, 'civilized' was a bad thing in the Amazon dictionary.

"It was all Peppermint," I evaded. "I was just along for the ride." Peppermint shook her head - flies.

"I will endeavor to take her hunting more often," Priya laughed. "Let's butcher our kills. We will both be hailed in the camp tonight. White Stallion indeed." She was trotting off to get her 'guest of honor' for tonight's festivities. That left Rachel and Mona to approach me alone.

"What was that all about?" Rachel whispered to me.

"I let go," I met her gaze. "I let go and everything worked out."

"Are you scared?" Mona asked. 'Fear' wasn't a dirty word to them. Cowardice was what mattered, not the fear behind it. Quite frankly, they found my fearlessness rather unsettling, along with sensual. No words came for a minute.

"That pig isn't going to skin itself," Mona noted.

"It is a peccary, not a pig. I've dissected a frog and a rat," I volunteered. "How hard can this be?" Rachel gave a depressive sigh. Mona laughed.

"How fresh were those kills?"

"The frog had been pickled in formaldehyde and the rat had been freeze-dried, so eating them wasn't really on my mind," I grinned. We dismounted. Rachel led our horses away to a safe distance. Horses aren't big fans of the smell of blood. Ours weren't going to run off, but being considerate of them was the proper thing to do.

"Wait!" Rachel cried out. Priya had been kneeling at her kill, she crouched and spun around. Mona did a quick head-snap to Rachel, then began scanning for threats. Rachel was finishing laying our bridles over some oak twigs as an indicator for the horses to stay put.

"This is your first kill," Rachel explained.

"Seriously?" Priya responded incredulously. Mona shook her head and chuckled.

"Do I get some kind of reward?" I asked the group.

"Yes," Rachel was smiling as she hurried my way.

"Is it an orgy?" I brightened up noticeably. 'Please, Dot Ishara. I haven't been irreverent for twenty-four hours now. Cut me some slack. I'm dying over here.'

"No," Rachel scolded me in the same way you scold a five year old who has attempted to mop the floor after spilling something. A negative layered in love and affection.

"Damn it!" I groused.

"Poor Cáel," Mona gave me some false sympathy. "How long has it been?" Priya rejoined us.

"How long has what been?" she inquired.

"Sex," I grumbled.

"I last had sex yesterday morning with Miyako in that miserable excuse for a bathroom on board our plane."

"Ah...our sister suffers," Mona smirked. "How can you still stand in your deprived state?"

"Is that an invitation to do it laying down?" I hoped beyond hope.

"No Cáel," Rachel patted my head. "Forty-nine more days." I fell on my back, thankful that the goggles and my eyelids dampened the light of the deadly Orb.

"Forty-nine more days?" I wept. "I'm not going to make it."

"Huh...I thought the forty-nine days was for us?" Priya grappled with the injustice.

"It is," Rachel snickered. "But, while he craves the sensual touch of our bodies, he's around guardians all day long and Aya crawls onto his chest and sleeps there all night. He's got five more days here with no hope of release."

"What about the outsider women?" Priya was warming up to my torment.

"Why do you think I asked Caprica to separate them from him and wear them out with camp duties," Rachel unveiled her Mistressful plan.

"Mother-fucker," I sat back up. "Rachel, I thought you liked me."

"I do," she regarded me warmly.

"I would like to enjoy you all to myself. As I said, I believe we have a First Kill Initiation Rite to perform."

I highly recommend participating in this rite of passage. I imagined the psychological effect on the minds of thirteen or fourteen year old girls was stunning. First, they had me strip naked. So far, so good.

We invoked a prayer to Inara in the Amazon tongue, thanking her for teaching our ancestors our hunting skills. Then Rachel, as the senior huntress, cut out the big pig's heart. But it gets better. I knelt with Mona standing on my left, Rachel before me and Priya to my right.

[OKH] "Welcome Sister," Rachel smiled down at me. "Receive your first blessing of blood."

I didn't know what to do.

[OKH] "Tilt your head up and open your mouth...wide," Mona said in a hushed voice. I trusted these women with my life. I also trusted them to freak me out whenever they could, which showed I was learning from my multitude of mistakes.

With both hands, Rachel extend forth the already dripping peccary heart over my upturned mouth and squeezed. Blood gushed forth. Half of it went down my throat. That left plenty of sanguinary aqua vitae to splash everything from my forehead, down my chest and onto my Johnson...hard as always. I absolutely needed serious psychiatric counseling.

Not vomiting from the taste of raw blood in my mouth - a minor victory. Not choking on said blood and spitting it back up because it was flowing straight down my throat - barely notable. Having Mona take my shirt and clean off my face so I could at least open my eyes...that had its upside. All the chicks around me looked terribly aroused.

"You stay," Rachel nodded my way. "The rest of us are going to search the shrubs for the rest of the javelina - no exceptions," she commanded, somewhat hoarse with sexual need. "Clean off your body with sand. Call us back once you are dressed."

"My shirt?" I asked as I held up the ensanguined shirt.

For some reason, I felt the desert camouflage pattern was ruined.

"He can go shirtless," Priya suggested quickly. Mona and Rachel nodded. 'Showered in pig's blood'...I didn't recall seeing that on a Cosmo sex quiz. I shuddered to think whose sexual survey would...oh, right, it was on the Satan's Sluts' To-do List.

Man, she was one freaky weirdo - Library Science major; you know the type. Considering my vast sexual experience, labeling someone 'freaky' and a 'weirdo' was saying something. Drying off with sand...when I got to my cock it dawned on me I had three women nearby and I hadn't tricked one of them to do that for me. I was slipping.

The group was rather quiet after they came back and the butchering began. The meat went into our ponchos. That was why we brought them!! Duh. I had yet to see a single cloud with even the delusion it would become a raindrop one day. We had gathered the bundle when I made this 'cha-chick' noise...Peppermint shook her reins free and walked over to me.

I was still working on 'what did I just say to a horse?' as I took my canteen out and kept letting her lick water out of my palm. Then I gave her the three peaches I had brought along as part of my lunch. Priya was visibly impressed. Mona and Rachel's silent exchange was getting downright gloomy.

Ya know, when an avalanche begins and you have a snowboard, you should still seek some kind of shelter. Avalanches have buried thousands of morons who thought they could outrun one and were shown how painfully wrong they were. Having been trained to snowboard - I went to school in New Hampshire, if you recall - I knew better.

That being said, I would jump on my snowboard and still try to outrun Mother Nature, that cranky primordial witch. I am that kind of mentally deficient individual. I was shooting the chaotic rapids of the turbulence that replaced rational thought in my noggin. I swung into the saddle like a man taught to ride before I could run. More Priya happiness. More dour looks from the SD.

If my 'me' me resented kayaking blindfolded in this recollected grey-matter white-water, it failed to file a protest. We returned to the road about a mile from camp, vigilant, but in high spirits. My ballistic vest was starting to chafe as Rachel pulled close to me.

"Would you use the damn reins," she hissed. Oh...those things.

Peppermint and I had reached an understanding. A soft cough, or knee action, and she'd telepathically knew where and how fast I wanted her to go. In hindsight, I could truly appreciate the anxiety I was heaping on my gun buddies. I behaved after that. It didn't help. The second we made it to the stables, Priya began blabbing away.

The scope of her titanic exaggerations made me out to be...supernatural. The essence of her retelling had me smiting an entelodont (aka the very extinct Hell Pig) with a lightning bolt from the cloudless sky, pre-cooking the beast. I then caused rich, buttery Tasso to rain down like Manna from above. Did that make me the Cajun Santa Claus? I wanted to find a hole to hide in.