THE NIGHT OF THE ICE COLD DEATH

By Andamogirl

WWW

ACT THREE

Part one

Somewhere in the past, at the end of the last glacial period

Holding a still unconscious Artemus in his arms, Jim spotted something gray in all the whiteness: it was a group of rocks half buried in snow drifts.

Other than that, the place was barren.

He headed there… thanking God that the fresh fallen snow wasn't as deep as it could've been. It was up to his knees, but he didn't go far as he slipped on a hidden treacherous patch of ice.

He fell heavily backward and released his companion who rolled on his side. Artemus regained consciousness, his face in the iced snow.

Pulling himself into a sitting position, Jim watched Artie doing the same, but slower and with the older man grimacing in pain. "Artie! Are you okay?" he asked, concerned, his breath misting in front of his face.

Looking around him, more frightened than surprised, Artie responded, "I'm fine for now… but it won't last. Where are we? He tried to draw his jacket tighter around his shivering body. "And when?"

Shivering, his teeth chattering he stood and stuffed his hands already red enough from the freezing largely sub-zero temperatures into his pockets.

He took a cautious step and slipped, finding himself on his butt. He muttered a curse. He was so cold that his teeth were clacking together.

Helping Artie to stand, Jim said, "I don't know where we are and what's the date… all I know is that we need a shelter or we will freeze to death in these conditions!"

Grimacing he touched his head, pulsating where he had been hit and discovered the blood frozen under his fingertips.

He shivered and kept his hands tucked under his crossed arms, wishing his jacket was a thick, warm buffalo fur coat. But sadly, it wasn't.

Pointing at the group of rocks, Jim said, "Let's… head over there. He cupped his hands in front of his mouth and blew on them, trying to warm them up before rubbing them together. "With a bit of luck… we can shelter in those rocks." He stood and helped Artie to get up.

They managed to reach the group of rocks half an hour later, but by the time they got there, the sun had set completely.

The blizzard was blowing, letting out a particularly violent howl.

Once nestled in a small cavity between two big rocks, Artemus maneuvered Jim onto his lap as he was smaller and lighter and the two men snuggled into each other's arms huddling together for warmth against cold stone walls, holding each other close to share their own body heat.

But it wasn't easy with damp clothes.

Always optimistic, Jim said, "The sp-space is s-small b-but t-that's a g-good thing, it's going to heat faster t-that way… and-and we're p-protected f-from the w-wind, mostly."

His head resting on Jim's shoulder, breathing against his partner's neck, and not feeling his extremities anymore, Artie said, "I think this is it Jim… We won't survive for long in this cold, and it's getting colder by the second now. It's the-the end of us."

Every breath was creating a little cloud of steam in the freezing air.

His head resting on Artemus's shoulder, his nose buried in the base of his best friend's neck Jim blinked to clear some of the ice crystal from his lashes and replied, "D-don't s-say t-that. We-we will s-survive… have experienced w-worse s-situations than this… and we are s-still alive."

Closing his eyes, the older man smiled. "I always ad-admired… your op-optimism Jim. For my p-part… I am a realist, there is no chance that we… that-that we can survive this… It's too damn c-co-cold – and getting co-co-colder…" He tried to hunch his shoulders a bit more.

Pressing the older man tighter in his arms, if possible, confident, Jim said, "As long as t-there is life, there-there is ho-hope. We're not d-dead yet bud-d-dy. And I'm s-sure t-that we'll f-find a way to-to s-survive, I mean pa-past t-this night… "

Moaning Artemus relaxed against Jim's shoulder. He was sleepy, "We're… alone in a… icy d-desert. No one's gonna help us…" He heaved a long sigh. "Gonna take a-a n-nap…" he slurred, slowly drifting off, quickly growing weaker.

Frowning, Jim shook his companion. "D-don't sleep, or you'll n-never wake up!" but as Artie kept his eyes closed, he slapped him. "Wake up!" he noticed with dread that his face was very pale with a light tinge of blue. "You're frozen." And he started rubbing Artie's back and sides.

Eyes opening, barely, Artie groaned. "M'wake," and he blinked, his eyelids feeling like lead. "Hypo… hy-hypothermia s-setting in rapidly… M'groggy, heavy, can't f-feel anything… M'weak, after a-all that happened to me…" he said, his breathing raspy.

Moving to the side, the snow and the wind whipping his back, Jim maneuvered Artie into the bottom of the small, tight cavity.

Shivering violently, he started to rub Artie's limbs (his skin was ice-cold) to get his blood moving. You're not going to die, Artie. "Vautrain k-killed you once – when you t-hought you were Ja-ack Maitland, be-because he sent you into the p-past and you were s-shot, but he won't kill you twi-twice, with exposure to c-co-cold." He plastered himself against him again, rubbing the other man's back vigorously.

But Artie wasn't shivering anymore, not even a tiny bit and he was pale enough to be almost blue. Jim knew that was a very bad sign: hypothermia had set in.

His forehead resting against Jim's Artie whispered, "Th-hanks… but it's fu-futile… M'dying." His eyes dropped shut and he breathed out, "Lemme… s-sleep." His head drooped down to his chest, his body limp.

But Jim didn't. He slapped Artie's face, again and again until Artie caught his hand, stopping him. "You're not going to freeze to death! You're not! That's final!"

Leaning heavily against his companion, cold numbing everything, his limbs, his brain, Artemus felt his eyes sliding closed again.

He was gray now and his lips were blue. "T-too tired…"

This time he slipped into unconsciousness.

Holding Artie tightly against him, his teeth chattering, every part of him aching, Jim nodded, feeling the his partner's body's regular rise and fall of breath slow, shallow, but still there. For now. "Ok-kay… you need to s-sleep." He turned around placing his back against the rock and moved Artemus onto his lap, tucking his head under his chin, running soothing circles in his flat, wet, curls. "Sleep Artie… You need t-to r-rest…You're go-oing to be ok-okay… M'going to k-keep you warm." He rubbed his hands up and down Artie's limbs, trying to keep him warm in time spreading some warmth into his fingers.

But exhausted, he succumbed to sleep too half an hour later.

Blackness enveloped him.

WWW

Jim woke abruptly about one hour later when he felt the ground tremble... like in an earthquake and different sorts of grumblings, dozens of them.

He shook Artie's shoulder. "Wake up!" But Artie remained unconscious. He pressed two fingers to his partner's neck and felt his pulse, slow, but still there.

He left the small cavity and through a curtain of powdered snow (the blizzard had died out) he saw… he saw something he had never seen in his life: a herd of enormous beasts resembling elephants, weighting tons! – heading in his direction and he took an involuntary step back. "Oh God!"

Eyes wide open in total surprise, he noticed that the huge animals had a voluminous single-domed head, long curved tusks, a trunk and a massive body with a sloping back and long brown hairs. 'Not elephants,' he let out, amazed.

He spotted people wrapped in furs against the deep cold running behind them, holding spears, letting out savage howls and screams. Others were holding torches.

Hunters.

He saw two of them point their spears at him.

Eyes wide open in dread now, he watched the beasts approach, and then rushed into the small cavity and huddled there, pressing Artie against him for warmth and to protect him.

He closed his eyes and tightened his embrace around his best friend's limp body. The ground was shaking, the rocks moving.

Suddenly a piece of rock detached itself from the vault above the two men and fell on Jim's head. He collapsed to the side, bringing Artie with him, and passed out.

WWW

Much later

Opening his eyes, Jim saw dozens of stalactites hanging above him attached to the ceiling of a cave and grimaced in pain. His head was pounding and hurt.

He realized then that he was alive. "Thank God," he said, with a sigh of immense relief.

He heard the crackling of a fire and enjoyed its warmth remembering how cold he was when Artie and he were huddled between the rocks, in the blizzard.

Everything came back in a flash and he felt a rush of anxiety explode in his chest. "Artie!"

He used his hands to try to push himself up into a sitting position and noticed that he was naked and cocooned in layers of thick (unknown) smelly animal pelts keeping him warm.

He glanced around him. He was in a vast cave and on the other side of the big, crackling, fire; he noticed a group of old women who were wrapped in furs, their feet bound in white skin boots. They were grooming each other, talking to each other in a language he didn't know and… they were eating the bugs (apparently there was a lot of them) they had in their long, dirty, messy hair.

Puzzled, he stood, keeping the furs around him and frowned. They seemed very primitive.

He frowned again. 'At what period back in time did Vautrain send us? First he had seen the very big elephants-but-not – and extinct animals – because he never heard of such beasts on Earth, not in his time period anyway and now this…'

He interrupted his line of thought when he noticed that other women, younger, sitting around Artie's inert, naked body, were touching the tattoo he had on the lower part of his back.

Others were observing his clothes with intense curiosity, touching the fabric, pulling out the buttons, cutting pieces from them with stone blades.

He spotted his own clothes cut into pieces scattered on the ground next to them.

His unconscious partner was lying on a large fur, protecting him from the cold, slightly damp ground. He was resting on his front, spread-eagle. "Artie!"

He was heading toward Artemus when two hunters rushed in his direction, slaloming between the fire and trickles of smoke drifting up from various points of the cave.

He stood immobile when they framed him, holding long spears provided with a flint tip, pointing them right at his throat.

They looked like Indians – but weren't. They were different, he noticed. They looked like the indigenous peoples of Siberia, he mused. Artemus and he had met a few of them, once, in Washington, at a reception at the White House, following an exposition on the arts & crafts of the indigenous peoples of Siberia, at the National Museum of Arts.

He raised a hand, slowly, in a gesture of peace – and the furs slipped to the ground. "I mean you no harm," he said. "I just want to see if my best friend is okay…" He pointed his finger at Artie. "Artemus, my friend."

The two hunters looked at their other prisoner and moved back, letting Jim bolt toward Artie.

Kneeling beside the other man, Jim rolled Artemus on his back – eliciting grunts of displeasure from the women gathered around him - and tapped his face twice. "Wake up Artie! We're safe… I think."

Moaning, Artemus slowly opened his eyes. He blinked and groaned. "Ow… "then he realized that he wasn't dead and gasped in surprise before letting out a long sigh of relief. "Great Scott! I'm not dead!"

Smiling, Jim shook his head relieved to see that his partner's skin had regained its natural color. "No, hunters found us and brought us here with them to a cave. They saved our lives."

Looking up at the women of all ages encircling him and his partner, Artie said, "They look like Indians, but aren't Indians. More like the indigenous peoples of Siberia… like the ones you and I met at the White House after that exhibition at the National Museum of Arts…"

That agreed with what Jim thought. He nodded. "Yes, I remember. It was an exhibition on indigenous arts and crafts from all around the world. A few Siberian craftsmen had been invited as other artists to explain their work…"

Still in scientific mode, Artie continued to observe the women, "But their clothes are different, less sophisticated… more primal."

Sitting cross-legged Jim nodded. "What can you tell me about huge animals with a voluminous single-domed head, long curved tusks, a trunk and a massive body with a sloping back and long brown hair…? Looking like elephants. We were almost crushed by a herd of them."

Rubbing a nervous hand over his tired face, Artie responded, "I think Vautrain sent us way back in the past, Jim. Those animals you described are mammoths. I read a fascinating article about mammoths written by a Scottish naturalist called Hugh Falconer. He was the first to scientifically describe a mammoth, in 1857, and named the species Elephas columbi after Christopher Columbus. Mammoths disappeared from North America 10,000 years ago ... We did a very big leap in time. That explains why the people here look primitive." He glanced around him and added, "And live in a cave."

Shocked, Jim looked at Artie, eyes wide open and mouth gaping. "What?" he croaked.

He pulled himself into a sitting position, wincing, and added, "If of course we are still in the USA ... because we could be where Siberia was 10,000 years ago."

He finally noticed that Jim was naked and he too. He blushed up to his ears, grabbed a piece of his jacket from the hands of an old woman and placed it on his private parts. "For once, I'm not the only one who ended up naked. By the way why am I always – or almost always - the one who ends up naked in almost all of our assignments?"

Placing a large piece of Artie's shirt on his lap, Jim smiled. "So that women can admire your tattoo? That tattoo is a real magnet for women, whether they are of our time or this one…"

Suddenly a burly woman with a shaggy mop of brown hair, rolled Artie onto his stomach and traced again with her fingertips the Comanche black eagle tattooed on his back – still fascinated.

Resting his head on his hands, Artie smiled. "You're not jealous are you?" and he gasped when he felt a hand smack his butt.

He slowly eased himself into a sitting position, his sore body aching, and glared at the women, staring at him, giggling. "Don't do that again! It's… totally inappropriate!" then he grabbed his pants, which had been cut in to long strips of fabric and placed it on his lap.

Jim smirked. "I don't need a tattoo to attract women… I'm drop-dead gorgeous."

Seeing that all the women encircling them were looking at him hungrily – and not at Jim – Artie said, "But women here are not attracted to you, Jim, but to me." Smiling he looked up at an old man wrapped in long, thick furs, with long white hair who was heading toward them. His face was covered with complicated patterns of tribal tattoos. He was framed between two solid hunters. "We're going to meet the leader of this small group ... " And he counted about twenty people, men, women and children.

The flames flickered, casting shadows on the cave walls.

Jim nodded. "He's the only one to have tattoos… maybe because he's the leader. Maybe they think you're a leader too because of the tattooed eagle on your back…"

Artemus stood and swayed on his legs, feeling dizzy. "But I bet they never saw an eagle." His blood was ringing in his ears with an echoing beat like drums. He could barely stand. He dropped the piece of fabric covering his middle to the ground.

Jim stood in a flash and stark naked too, he caught his best friend's elbow. "Are you okay Artie? You look like a ghost."

Pale, his face strained by exhaustion, Artie nodded. "I'm fine."

Placing a friendly hand on Artie's shoulder Jim nodded. "Okay… I'm not the linguist here. Do you think you can communicate with them?"

Raising a surprised eyebrow, Artie replied, "I'm pleased and honored that you appreciate my talents as a polyglot but… this language is 10,000 years old." He sighed. "But I can try…"

The old man raised a hand as wrinkled as his face and started talking in his language… and Artie frowned, intrigued.

Looking at Artie, curious, Jim asked, "What? Did you understand what he told us?"

Ignoring his partner's reaction and question, Artie began talking… in Cheyenne, a language he had learned with the Cheyenne Chief American Knife – who had since then chosen to become a medicine man to perpetuate the family tradition after his father's death. Black Bear, one of the members of the council of elders had replaced him, he recalled.

The old man was very, very, surprised to hear the Cheyenne words and when Artie stopped talking, he smiled and placed his hand on to Artemus's shoulder.

He said something in his language and Artie smiled too. Artemus pointed at Jim and said, "James", then he moved his hand to his own chest and tapped it. "Artemus."

The Chief copied Artie, "Kaj-po-tel."

Moving closer to his best friend, puzzled, Jim said, "I thought that you couldn't speak their 10,000 year old language, but you obviously can."

Smiling, Artie nodded. "I'm the most surprised, Jim. When I heard the chief talk, I recognized Cheyenne words and intonations. It would seem that these people are somehow linked to the Cheyenne, perhaps are the ancestors of the Cheyenne… who knows? But there are big differences in the two languages too. But I think I can manage to talk to them." He paused and glanced at the burly woman who had moved to his side, eying him hungrily. He cleared his throat. "The chief offered his daughter, Nee-at-tepo… to me, I think, no I'm sure. He wants me to be part of his clan… "

Chuckling, Jim clapped Artie's shoulder. "Lucky man… Well, we're stuck here Artie, so you could start a lovely family… and have very interesting children."

Cringing at the idea, Artemus took sudden interest in the wooden spears that the hunters were holding. The point had been hardened by the fire. "Mmm…. I am amazed that they can hunt with that … But I can help them. I learned to carve points of arrows and knife blades in stone, with the Comanche." Then he translated that to Kaj-po-tel who grinned with all his damaged, black teeth. "Let's find what I will need to do that… Show me the stones you have and your tools."

There was a new translation.

Shivering, Artie picked up one of the thick, smelly animal hides covering the cold, rocky ground, and wrapped himself in it, before following the Chief of the clan as he headed toward the mouth of the cave. The bulky woman followed.

Hiding his naked body behind a similar fur, Jim walked to the side of the fire opposite an old woman and looked down at a large piece of meat roasting there.

His stomach rumbled in hunger.

He deliberately ignored the rotting meat piled between two stalagmites against the cave wall as the dank stench made him nauseous.

He glanced at Artie, now busy exploring the clan's primitive tools, making comments in the Cheyenne language and smiled at a woman offering him a piece of juicy meat, she had just cut with a stone knife. Hunger had overtaken nausea. "Thank you very much," he said.

She smiled in return before biting into the piece of meat.

Jim said, "When in Rome…" and sank his teeth into his own piece of meat.

Tbc.