Thirty miles out Jack had documented the surrounding territory in his mind. He had seen a number of prospects for salvaging later. Things he never knew existed. Still no radioactivity zones. In his untiring sprint he opts to finally walk. He knew he could run back by nightfall if needed. Squinting toward the horizon he stopped cold. He had heard something. Something familiar. A stench in the air confirmed it.
"Cows?"
Jogging up a high hill he reaches the top to find the shock of his life. Below him were at least a dozen adult cows and a calf. A single horse, white with black spots lingered to feed on a large grassy area in the desert. It was an Oasis complete with a small underground filling pond. The sight made Jack huff and stare with bewilderment. Then it dawned on him. The horse had a saddle. That must mean a rider.
Sure enough. Jack freezes at the cocking of a rifle. He carefully lifts his hands into the air.
"Who are you? I'm not letting you steal my herd." Gruffly spoke a feminine voice.
Jack was taken by surprise at the woman's voice. It had a drawl he had only heard in old movie Westerns.
"I'm not here to take what's yours. My name's Jack. I'm going to slowly turn around to face you. I'll keep my hands high until you know me better."
"You better Jack. I'm not afraid to unload this Winchester on you."
"Understood." He timidly twists in step to get a full on view of the woman.
She stood roughly 5'5, 125 pounds with blazing red hair that was over her shoulders and naturally curly. On top of her head was a cowboy hat with a neck band dangling over her neckline. Her attire was khaki and suede, with a tucked in button down shirt of white.
Her aim was poised high and she appeared nervous.
"Keep 'em up. What do you want here Jack?"
He admires her big green eyes, "Lost, just like you are. How long have you been here?"
"Going on two days now. I don't understand where exactly I am but I know this ain't no Kansas prairie."
"No. It's not Kansas. Is that where you're from?" He attempts to smile.
Stammering she appears haunted, "Hundred miles due west of Wichita."
"I'm from New York. Near Buffalo and Niagara Falls."
"City slicker? You sure do dress funny." She squints.
"What year is it?" He had to ask.
Shaking her elbow she tells him her version, "1873. Where have you been?"
"Well! This might come as a shock to you but I'm from the future. 2019 to be precise."
She laughs at him and rolls her eyes, "Sure you are. Don't you go playing tricks with me Mister."
"I can prove it. I'm going to reach into my back pocket okay?" He lowers his right hand very slowly.
"Not before you drop those funny looking six guns you're carrying."
"Also made in the future." He crouches and plants his glock's and pack on the sand. Standing back up he produces his wallet.
"Inside is a card with my picture on it. It has my name and the date I had it taken. Don't be afraid to look. I'm not going to jump you."
He slowly tosses it at her and she catches it. In doing so she got careless and tilted her rifle. Jack took that moment to snatch it from her hands. She fell directly into him while trying to maintain her grasp.
"Calm down. I'm just making sure you don't shoot me. I'll give the gun back to you I promise. Just take the time to breath and let's be friends. Look at my wallet there. See for yourself. I'm being honest with you."
Whining slightly she takes the wallet and opens it. Finding his Military I.D. she reads the contents.
"You could have gotten this from some Carnival. Color picture. I ain't never seen color before. You look handsome."
He chuckles, "Thanks. You know my name. What's yours?"
"Greta. Greta Winston." She flirts suddenly.
"Nice to meet you Greta. Me and my friends have been lost here for barely over a week now. Our airplane crashed here. Seven survivors."
"Seven? It's only me and ole "Quiver". My horse there. I was helping my Pa round up strays. Some God aweful light blinded me and here I am. How do I get back home Jack?"
He offers a shrug and a frown, "This place might be home for all of us from here on out. We're lost in Time I think."
"Time? You lost me handsome."
"Look around you in the distance. How many things do you recognize? Airplanes and Nuclear Sub-Marines weren't invented by 1873. Ships got bigger and sturdier. Spacecraft? Hell I didn't believe in that until this week."
She takes the time to wander her gaze and conclude he was right. As soon as she leered back at him he handed her the rifle back. She accepted it and felt more at ease.
"Twelve cows. You're lucky you found this oasis. Where we landed is thirty miles I'm guessing, in that direction. You're lucky, I intended to stop at ten miles from our camp. Nothing but desert and a graveyard of planes, ships, boats, cars, you name it. Oh, and one big ass spaceship that we call home."
"Are you from out there?" She points at the sky.
"I told you I was born in New York." He raises an eye brow.
"Right. I forgot. I need a drink."
The thought of a drink averted his gaze, "That watering hole is the first drop of water I've seen that's not diluted by chemicals."
"I had fourteen head of cattle when I got here. Something's killing them after dark one at a time. I want to move the herd but I'm afraid I won't find another patch of grass for them to eat. Or water to drink. I need water myself."
"Let's go down and look for suspicious tracks. Get an idea what might be preying on your cows."
"Not no cougars or wolves. I know them kind of paw prints. No bear neither. I haven't been able to build a fire since I've been here. I just huddle up with "Patsy" the calf for warmth."
He leaves her behind and heads down the hill to the watering hole. The cows gently move out of his path to let him through. Stepping in the thicket he discovers an unusual set of prints.
"Gator maybe. Big! Very Big! Whatever it is. Has to be if it drags cows away." He spies drag marks in the mud.
"I did hear splashing and a ruckus. You think maybe the predator is under that water?"
"Drag marks right over here leading in to the water. Whatever is down there can survive under water. Gators come up for air. So, let's out rule any Gator."
"I'm afraid to waste bullets in the dark. I might hit one of the cows or ole Quiver."
"I say we move the herd to where my group is. There we can build a pen for them and figure out how best to care for the herd."
"You just want them for food." She grits her teeth.
"Another week or two you're going to say that about yourself. Survival makes you do things you detest. I'm not worried about food for now. We have enough rations to eat for a month maybe. We can use the cow manure to grow vegetables." He sternly looks into her eyes, "I can't just leave you out here. Obviously it's not safe. Come live with us. At least you're not alone."
