ItIsJustMe

"Lost In Time: 10,000 B.C.E."

17 November 2021
Day 4:

Tammy Wagner was hurting. Her last fix had been at 30,000 feet somewhere over Central California after stealing opioids from another passenger. Unfortunately, that bottle had nearly been empty and its contents were already gone.

She'd gone through all of the little bottles of booze, too. She'd also gone through the half dozen bottles she'd gotten for sucking the cock of one of the survivors who'd squirreled away his own stash.

Tammy had joined Paula Riggs, and Julia Rivers the day before when the two went to the forest hunting. She'd peppered the pair with questions the entire afternoon: she'd feigned a general interest in the effort to find herbs, mushrooms, and more, but in reality Tammy was simply desperate to find something to ease her own pain.

Julia understood the younger woman's pain.  She'd been through her own period of addiction as a teen. Discovering Homeopathy had saved Julia's life, and now she wanted her knowledge to save Tammy, too.

As they foraged, Julia quietly pointed out some mildly narcotic mushrooms to Tammy which the young woman eagerly collected and hid away from the third woman. Julia pointed out several other plants that would be beneficial to the health of the others, with the three women filling a trio of baskets.

Back at the camp, the three peeled, chopped, squeezed, boiled, dried, and more as appropriate. By nightfall, they were dispensing their remedies.

And Tammy got her fix, too. Mushrooms were new to her and ... different, to say the least. But they worked, and soon she was feeling no pain.

"Lost In Time: 10,000 B.C.E."

Introducing the Medical Staff, both professionals and "amateurs" (who will be trained):

Cooper Mason -- Trauma Surgeon, MD.
Paula Riggs -- CRNA (Certified Registered Nurse Anesthetist)
Peter Wilson -- Medic, SEALS (retired)
Helen Hartford -- Hospice Caregiver, volunteer
Julia Rivers -- Homeopathic storekeeper
Addler Hoffman -- Civilian with warzone experience; German citizen with poor English skills
Rosalee Davis -- Civilian; concerned parent (her child, Marjorie, is present at crash and unharmed)

NOTE -- The deaths spoken of below are included in the 70 deaths already claimed; the current number of living still stands at 149 (after Harold's death to the Saber-toothed cat.)

Day 3: 16 November 2021 (still, though later in the day)

"Can we talk...?"

Harry Timms, Connie Flanagan, and Shari Sampson were standing together near the fuselage of the crashed plane discussing various topics of importance when the group's only Medical Doctor, Cooper Mason, asked to speak with them. He was accompanied by three others -- Paula Riggs, Peter Wilson, and Helen Hartford. When the first three survivors turned to the other four, the trauma surgeon added softly, "In a more private setting...?"

The group moved away from what was being called the camp by most of the survivors, and Harry asked Cooper, "What can we do for you, Doctor?"

"You can tell me that you are in authority," Cooper said firmly.

Harry considered the request a moment, then responded, "Well, I am the most senior crew member, and I have been leading to the best of my--"

"I need you to tell me that you are in a position to make life and death decisions," Cooper interrupted. When Harry didn't immediately respond, the doctor spoke of the dead and injured, then -- in a soft, sorrowful tone -- finished, "We have at least six seriously injured patients for whom I can ... we can do nothing."

On the word we, the Doctor had turned to look at the others with him. At one time or another since the crash, each of them had had the opportunity to meet and speak with Harry, Connie, Shari, and many of the other survivors, so no introductions were required. Helen Hartford, who had ten years as a volunteer Hospice Caregiver, took a step forward, reminded the other three of her area of work, and told them, "These people need peace."

"And you all think I'm the one to make a decision on this," Harry said, looking between the four, as well as glancing to Connie and Shari. When no one else spoke, Harry drew a deep breath, held it, exhaled slowly, and asked Helen, "What specifically are you asking of me?"

The doctor answered, "Someone has to make a decision as to whether we relieve the suffering of these patients, those with no to little hope, those who are hanging on but who will most certainly pass."

Paula Riggs, the Certified Registered Nurse Anesthetist, spoke up for the first time: "We have very little in the way of pain killers, but..."

She looked to the Homeopathic storekeeper. Julia Rivers spoke up, "If you will send someone with me ... someone with a gun -- so I don't get eaten by a saber tooth tiger -- I can find what we need in the forest ... maybe around us, in the fields and wetlands."

"What do you need?" Shari asked the woman who had deep knowledge of the medicinal wealth in the plants that could be found all about them in nature. "I know a little bit about homeopathy myself."

Julia easily rattled off the names of a dozen plants that she said she knew could be found in abundance here in the valley or in the forests surrounding them. "I've already seen many of those. They include pain relievers, anti-inflammatories--"

Harry cut in, "We're talking about people who are dying ... people who, I believe you are telling me, people who you want to give some crushed up plant or drink made of berries that will kill them, yes?"

There were a variety of responses, both verbal and gesture; Harry continued, "Is this painless...? peaceful? I understand what you are telling me you want to do--"

"No one wants to do this," the doctor cut in with a firm tone.

The Hospice Caregiver spoke up again, "No one wants to do this, but it needs to be done, Harry. These people are in pain, and they aren't going to survive. This needs to be done, and we need to decide who makes these decisions."

There was a moment of silence, after which Shari Sampson spoke up again: "The Doctor." All attention turned to her, and she clarified, "Harry has stepped up to help lead the group, yes. But these kinds of decisions should belong to the Doctor."

"I gave an oath, to protect life, not end it," Cooper said.

Helen stepped closer to the Doctor and took his arm in a comforting squeeze. She didn't initially speak but eventually told him softly, "We'll be there with you."

Harry and Cooper met eyes for a moment before the former stepped closer to the latter and offered his hand. "I trust you to make the right decision."

Cooper took the other man's hand, and after a moment of silence said only, "Thank you."

The doctor looked to each of the three who had stepped up in one way or another to help lead the group, then to his own staff: "Come with me, and ... and we'll figure out the next step."

The four caregivers returned to the fuselage, which had become a makeshift medical center, and -- joining the other three involved in the survivors' medical care -- came to a hard decision: Dr. Cooper Mason would make a determination as to a patients survivability; anesthetist Paula Riggs and knowledgeable homeopath Julia Rivers would locate and, as necessary, process natural compounds to relieve the pain and/or end a life; and Navy SEAL medic Peter Wilson, Hospice caregiver Helen Hartford, Addler Hoffman -- who had civilian warzone experience -- and
Rosalee Davis -- who was simply a concerned and sympathetic mother -- would be there for the patients in their final days.

"Lost In Time: 10,000 B.C.E."

16 November 2021
Day 3, dawn:

Harry Timms had taken the 3rd watch, from 2am to 6am; the 1st watch had begun with the setting of the sun at 6pm, followed by the 2nd watch at 10pm. He was surprised to find Shari Sampson sitting at the fire when he returned from the perimeter, cooking the last of the sausages and some roots someone had dug up for the off-coming watchers. They had a chat about her son, Cliff, specifically about how brave he'd been to step up the day before.

"I don't like that he knows how to handle a firearm so well without my knowledge," she said in barely above a whisper; most of the camp was still asleep. "But maybe we'll need him to have that skill." After a moment of silence between them, she asked in even a softer voice, "Are we really in the past? Can that be possible?"

They chatted about what they'd seen thus far, with the conversation ended by Harry: "I think that regardless of how surreal and impossible it seems, we have to assume it's a real possibility."

Over the next hour, as the sun broke over the hills to the east and bathed the camp in red, orange, and then yellow, the rest of the camp came alive. The very last of the food was distributed to the children first, then the adults. There were half a dozen diabetics with concerns over blood sugar levels; they were the first to eat, and even then it wasn't enough.

A hunting party was put together, primarily made up of those who'd gone searching for Harold the day before. And, because there was still concern for the cat-killed man, the party headed east again. They knew where to look for Harold now, of course, though it was uncertain how much of the man they would find once they got there.

The hunting party took its time, walking as quietly as it was slowly. There was plenty of small game sighted along the way, and Cliff Sampson again brought up the topic of snares. It was decided that the group would in fact set game catching traps, but because of the presence of the big cat to the east of the crash site it was determined that perhaps the snares should be set elsewhere.

They group came upon the clearing that had been the furthest extent of their walk the day before. At the edge of the woods on the far side of the open space, the crash survivors saw something they hadn't expected: a multitude of animals waiting for their turn at the feeding trough that once was Harold. Three canines were currently sinking their teeth into what remained of the young man, but just yards away were smaller mammalian scavengers, vultures, crows, and other birds.

Harvey Kingston whispered to the others, "Maybe we should just ... you know ... forget about this and pay homage to Harold back at--"

CRACK!

Everyone in the hunting parting flinched at the sound of the pistol shot, even the young man who'd pulled the trigger. As he stood and strode forward, Cliff looked to the corpse so horribly disfigured, now more easily seen with the scattering of the scavengers. He said over his shoulder to the others, "I'm not leaving Harold here to become bug food."

Over the next few seconds, Diego Garcia, Willy Washington, and Javier Flores each stood and followed after the young man. They arrived at Harold's body, finding very little of him recognizable anymore: his upper body had been thoroughly ripped to shreds, with most of the fleshy parts missing and even some of the bones pulled away or missing. Only Harold's lower half was still mostly intact, though both of his feet had been chewed off at the ankles.

The group had brought garbage bags with them, and now they bagged Harold up for removal and burial. They were ready to head back to the camp when the sound of nearing movement put the group on edge. Suddenly a deer burst from the undergrowth, frightened and likely running from a pursuing predator. It was seemingly unaware of the humans gathered near the woods edge as it ran directly at them. Without hesitation, Javier Flores lifted his pistol, aimed, and pulled the trigger. The bullet entered the deer's chest dead center, penetrating the rib cage and ripping the animal's heart into several pieces. It fell forward at speed, crashing to and rolling up the ground.

The others stared at Diego in surprise, to which he only shrugged and said, "Venison anyone?"

They field dressed the deer, saving all the internal organs save the entrails in another of their plastic garbage bags. They ran a pole between its legs and hauled it away to the camp where it was skinned, cleaned further, and put over the fire.

Harold was buried with the other dead, with whispers circulating the story of how little there was left of him to inter.

The rest of the day was spent building more defenses, pillaging through the checked bags for useful items, and -- for Cliff and some volunteers -- making snares to be distributed about the grass, shrub patches, and forest in every direction but east.

"Lost In Time: 10,000 B.C.E."

I'm baaaaack... (I always loved when Arnold said that in movies.)

I was away for a while, but I have returned once again to write this story.

While it had only been me writing thus far, this is, in fact, a role play. If anyone is interested in the concept, PM me -- please do not post your Interest here, as it would only clutter the OOC. (Thanks for that.)

"Lost In Time: 10,000 B.C.E."

Deleted

"Lost In Time: 10,000 B.C.E."

Harry Timms felt his own stomach roll over at the sight of Harold's blood staining the ground and shrubs. There was so much of it that the nominal leader of the group knew the missing man was certainly dead.

"I want everyone on guard," he said, waving back those who were curious about what had been found, instructing, "You don't want to see this."

He looked to Cliff Sampson, Harvey Kingston, and Diego Garcia -- all armed -- and said, "And watch where you're pointing those things."

Harry gestured the group to parallel his own path, which followed the trail of blood. They moved slowly, cautiously; Harry whispered repeatedly for them to watch their steps.

Shari Sampson finally whispered back, "You know that if there's a Saber-toothed cat out here, we aren't going to sneak up on it. Have you ever stalked wild game, particularly a predator?"

Harry reluctantly shrugged and shook his head. Shari advised him, "The best we get is a very long distant look at the cat as it is running away from us, but there's no chance we'll sneak up on it."

"And what if it's still carrying Harold in its jaws?" he asked, reminding her of why they were there in the first place.

40 minutes later:

Ironically, there had been no sneaking necessary to find the Saber-toothed cat. The 8 stalkers reached the edge of a clearing in the woods and suddenly, there less than 30 yards away, the predator was on its belly at the far edge of the open space ... eating their friend. Harold's corpse was barely recognized as once being Human. His legs were still in his jeans, stained with blood down to his knees; most of the rest of his torso had been eviscerated, with his bowels torn out, spread around, ravaged; his skull was unseen, though, that might have been due to the position of the animal eating it.

Initially, the Saber-toothed cat -- which was sitting at an angle away from the Human's looking at it in awe and fright -- could have been mistaken as being just a very big lion. Its fur was longer than that of a 21st century lion and its mane shorter, but still. And then it turned casually to stare at the other examples of its current meal. Emerging downward from it blood covered mouth were canine teeth -- fangs is what they almost looked like -- that were 8 to 12 inches long.

The cat watched the intruders interrupting his lunch for a long moment as they simply stared at it in silence. Then, it casually turned back to eating on Harold. Willy Washington whispered, "What do we do?"

Diego was the first to respond: "We shoot it. We kill that fucker dead."

"No," Harry said softly. "We came out here to rescue Harold. That's not going to happen now."

"We have guns!" Javier argued, supported by some of the unarmed people who likely felt as vulnerable as poor old Harold.

"We would have to hit that cat a dozen times to kill it," Harry told them, "and it would probably still kill one or more of us before it died. No. We back up slowly and get the fuck out of here."

"What about--?"

"We'll come back to bury Harold later," Harry said. "We'll do right by him. I promise."

Someone murmured, "Do right by what's left of him you mean."

Harry had enough support to get the group to back away, though, and a few minutes later they were out of the woods and heading back for the camp. Again, Harry stopped them just outside the gathering area, saying, "I think it's best if we tell the others that we couldn't find Harold."

That set off an argument that persisted for a couple of minutes. At a calm in the discussion, Harry held his hand out and said, "I need the guns back."

Again, that led to disagreement, but Harry insisted, "We need to create a sort of Camp Watch, to watch out for more of those cats and whatever the fuck else is out there, waiting to eat us. If you want to join the Watch, you get a gun back."

"I join now," Diego said as he stuffed his gun into the small of his back. "I join, and I keep."

He strode off toward the camp, done with the conversation. After a moment of them looking at each other in silence, the rest of them heading toward the others, too. On the way, Shari demanded the pistol her son was carrying, and after Cliff gave it up, she handed it to Harry. She told the man, "My son and I will join the watch, too."

Back at camp, Harry explained that the search had been for naught, but that they were certain that a large predatory feline was in the area. "We need to be careful about our movements. No one leaves the camp without company. No one leaves the camp without a weapon. Anyone who wants to learn how to use the pistols will be shown. We just have to limit live fire practice because we have a limited supply of ammunition."

Harry and Shari both looked to and glared at Javier who, of course, had more guns and ammo. Harry knew a deal with Javier would have to be made if the group was threatened again by the cat or some other dangerous predator.

"In the meantime," Harry continued, "did any of you see the movie The 13th Warrior? Or Braveheart? Or even that episode of The Walking Dead when the Sheriff found Morgan again?"

Many in the group understood just to what Harry was leading, and with the hour, they were working on defenses for the crash site. It was decided that a 13th Warrior style moat and sharpened pole barricade would probably take too long and, in the end, likely not stop the beast, which would simply leap over it. But it was decided that William Wallace-style, hand held lances could be effective, particularly in conjunction with the pistols.

The real problem was cutting down and sharpening the pole. It took hours to find metal shards and debris that could be used as axes or knives. Those tools made of aluminum were weak and bent, while those made of steel were impossible to make sharp. Ultimately, they were able to use just one piece of steel debris that had had a relatively sharp edge on it due to its construction. There were thoughts of using the blades from the plane's engines, but getting them separated from the engine itself was proving to be difficult.

While part of the group worked on defenses, the others fashioned digging tools and buried the dead. Flies and little critters had already found the corpses. There was a great deal of argument about whether the deceases should be buried as is or stripped of their clothing. Some found the latter disrespectful, but when it was pointed out that there was no mall or Walmart at which to buy clothes and shoes once the wardrobes now being worn were worn out, a vote was taken.

Two thirds of the survivors voted to take the outer layers of clothing but leave undergarments in place. Women undressed women, men undressed men, and Harry and Connie Flanagan watched over it all. Personal possessions that had a value to the group were salvaged: lighters, matches, gum, pen lights, cosmetics, cigarettes, etc.; those of a very personal nature, including wallets, photos, jewelry, etc., were buried with their owners.

At sundown, the job was done and much of the group assembled to speak a few words. During a moment of silence, Milka Planinc -- a 34 year old Croatian-American woman who had had to be carried to the grave site due to having both legs broken in the crash -- surprised the others by breaking into a soft rendition of Sweet Chariot in her native tongue of Croatian. It was simply stunning; her voice was angelic and strong, despite the pain she was suffering due to her injuries.

Others showed a desire to join in, but with the song being sung in a language none of them spoke, a handful of them joined in by humming along with her. It was an emotional moment, and when Milka finished, she received thanks from many before the group slowly disbanded to return to the camp some 50 yards away.

Harry sat with two dozen men and women to discuss watch standing, and a plan was hatched out:

• 3 pairs would stand 4 hour watches from dusk to dawn, spread out like the points of a triangle.
• Another watch stander would set up atop the fuselage for a longer distance view.
• Each of these groups would be armed with one pistol, two clips, spears, and clubs; enough of the latter two had been fashioned to supply the Watch Standers as needed.
• The Watch Standers would be just on the perimeter of the camp, not so far out that they would be in danger.
• Fires were built 50 yards out from their positions, to hopefully deter some wild creature -- a cat perhaps? -- or at least light it up if it neared.
• Any survivors who wanted to sleep inside the fuselage were advised to do so. In the end, after more fearful discussion about poor lost Harold, more than 1/3 of the group moved inside.

And so the second night began...

After hours, the work was abandoned for rest and meals. The last of the food was consumed that night, and it wasn't a balanced meal in the least. It was decided that tomorrow, an effort had to be made to find new food sources, as well as water.

For safety reasons

"Lost In Time: 10,000 B.C.E."

15 November 2021
Day 2, shortly before noon:

"Can I have everyone's attention, please?" Harry Timms called out after he, Shari Sampson, Cliff Sampson, Harvey Kingston, Diego Garcia, Willy Washington, and the others who'd been discussing the Saber-tooth cat's killing of Harold returned to the assembly area. Some people moved closer while others remained where they were, but all turned their attention to the Flight Attendant who had become their interim leader. He'd already realized that the word was out about the big cat's killing. "I know there is a lot of confusion about what exactly's happening here ... where we are--"

"When we are!" someone called out, causing a small uproar of questions and comments. A woman called out, "They're saying we traveled back in time, to the dinosaur age ... fuckin' Jurassic Park."

Harry tried to wave everyone silent so he could continue. He stood atop a crate that had been unloaded from the plane so that the others could see and hear him better. "Please, please! Listen, we don't have all the answers to what's happening yet, but I promise, we'll get them soon. The issue right now is that one of us, Harold, a man who many of you know and respect for all he's done helping you all after the crash ... he's missing--"

"He's dead!" another person called. "They said he's dead, killed by a Saber tooth tiger!"

Again, there was uproar, and Harry fought to get enough silence to continue. "We don't know what happened to Harold, but I assure you, it wasn't a Saber tooth tiger. But, we need to find out, so, I'm asking for volunteers to accompany me to where Harold was last seen, a search party, to find him -- hopefully alive and well -- and bring him back to the camp."

There were mixed responses, but Harry got his volunteers in a flash: Shari Sampson, her son Cliff, Harvey Kingston, Diego Garcia, and three others. Harry couldn't help but notice that one person in particular not only didn't volunteer but didn't even leave his position near the fuselage to join the group: Javier Flores, whose guns Harry was carrying in a backpack dangling from his shoulder.

"If something happens to me," Harry softly told his Flight Attendant team member, Connie Flanagan, after he pulled her aside, "you need to take and maintain control. These people need someone to keep them together."

Harry and the other 7 headed off toward where Cliff said he'd seen Harold attacked and dragged away. Halfway to the woods, he stopped them all and began pulling out the guns, asking, "Who knows how to use one of these and feels comfortable with them?"

There were, of course, questions about the origins of the weapons. Harry told the lie that Javier had suggested, "They were in a checked bag."

Cliff Sampson, Harvey Kingston, and Diego Garcia raised their hands regarding comfort and knowledge with the pistols. Shari was surprised at her son's response, asking, "Since when do you know how to use a gun?"

The Sampson's were "outdoorsy" types and did a lot of fishing, and her two eldest children both knew how to use a bow. But Shari had never known Cliff to use a firearm before. He answered, "Vince O'Malley, he and his father have guns. They took me shooting with them a bunch of times. I didn't say anything 'cause I didn't know if you'd like it."

Harry let the family drama play out, then -- as he had with Harvey and Diego -- handed one of the Berettas to the youngest of the octet. With obvious skill, Cliff kicked out the clip, checked to ensure it was full, slammed it back inside the weapon, and pulled the slide back to inject a round into the firing chamber. He looked to Harry, to his mother, and to the others: "Good to go. Let's go get this kitty."

"This is no joking matter, Cliff," Harry chastised, trying to discipline the teen before his mother did, which he knew would be embarrassing. He looked about the four armed men as he explained, "I don't expect us to run into any trouble, but in case we do, I want you to remember two important facts. First, we have a limited supply of ammunition, so don't be unloading a clip at the first furry animal you see. Second, and yes, this contradicts with the first point, if you see a fucking Saber-toothed cat running at you with it big teeth open ready to bite your head off, shoot the fucker as many times as it takes to take it down!"

They all looked to each other for reassurance that they were ready for this, then towards and then into the woods they went. Whether it was 2021 or 10,000 B.C., the forest looked like just a forest. Yes, there were some unfamiliar plants here and their, but they were overshadowed by the conifers, shrubs, and wild flowers that were oh so familiar. There was movement in the trees above and on the ground at their feet, but for the most part, the creatures scurried away without being seen.

"Oh, God," Shari said, stopping suddenly as she looked off to the left of the scouting group. She turned back to face the group, leaning forward as if to puke and yet retaining her composure. Harry stepped away to look where Shari had been, seeing the dark red of blood spilled all about the ground and nearby shrubs. There was no other sign of Harold, except for his shoe laying on the stained grass.

"Lost In Time: 10,000 B.C.E."

This profile is not yet completed.

The Sampson Family: Shari, Cliff, Sammi, and Molly

• Specifics about the family members are found further below.
• The family is "outdoorsy".
• They live (lived?) in Bremerton, Washington, across Puget Sound from Seattle.
• They spent at least 20 weekends a year camping, as well as most spring breaks and much of the summer.

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Shari
Physical Description:

• 33 years old
• ", #;
• Green eyes, hair

Personality:

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History:

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Cliff
Physical Description:

• .
• years old
• ", #;
• eyes, hair

Personality:

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History:

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Sammi
Physical Description:

• .
• years old
• ", #;
• eyes, hair

Personality:

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History:

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Molly
Physical Description:

• The youngest of the Sampsons at 5 years of age.
• years old
• ", #;
• eyes, hair

Personality:

• Very adventurous little girl.
  
  • She'd demanded her own pup tent for her 4th birthday camping party to show she was a big girl.
  • She'd only once snuck out of it and into her mother's tent while camping, and that had only been because of a sudden wind storm. (See intro post for family).
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History:

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Seeking for 1x1 or small group RP about money laundering in a small town.

NEW BASIC PLOT LINE

I change the plot and the desired writer. If you didn't see the original request, you won't notice the difference; if you did, ignore what you saw. :)

Seeking for 1x1 or small group RP about money laundering in a small town.

The story takes place in a small town (pop. 1,000) after my character finds a bag full of cash after a drug dealer crashes his car and dies.

She flees to the home town of your character, a community struggling with high unemployment and other social ills. My character decides to covertly use her money to help the community.

While this is happening, she meets your character -- the owner and/or manager of a small business -- and, while helping you financially, falls in love with you as well.

Even though this is a romantic story, there will be no explicit sexual descriptions. That way, the entire story can remain in the thread and not have to go to PMs.

I'm looking for a female writer who proofs for spelling, grammar, and punctuation -- as do I -- and will post 10+ short to medium posts a week.