Nowhere Man, Book One.Chapter 51 free porn video

“Can your nanites actually heal, or is it purely stopping these beasties doing their thing?”

“Now there you have me, Numa. I don’t know how effective these little machines are in that way. Any bruises and bashes and other injuries, they seem to be geared up to heal, but fighting off active bacteria in a body ... I am at a loss to know.”

“There is only one way to find out, John: go to them and do what you can. Promise nothing, but offer them the chance of healing from your touch.”

“Must I rush off now? Can I not wait until I have said a proper farewell to all my wives?”

Numa allowed that benison, so the girls benefitted that evening and night, and in the morning a semi-exhausted John sat to enjoy breakfast with Brando. The Maker was going home later that day, so John gave him another idea to think about: a bicycle.

He was not looking for a normal pedal machine; he knew there was no way that all the metal parts required were possible. Instead, he sought a simple two-wheeled vehicle that could make movement easier; what was once called a dandy-horse, or sometimes a velocipede. You moved it using your legs and feet, but most of the weight was carried by the machine through the front and back wheels. Steering was an optional extra, if it could be devised by Brando, but tilting could make do for gentle turns.

“Get Vickie to show you an encyclopaedia picture of what it looks like, Brando. There is no hurry to get one made; it will just be fun to have one in use and see what effect it has on how far and fast a person can move with it.

John at last moved off on foot on his long trek to the south, bypassing the coastal strip entirely. Though on a medical mission, he still carried his crossbow on his back as well as his backpack with food supplies, spare clothing and footwear, his comb and his toothbrush. Predators on two feet or four feet were still to be feared.

The first tribe he came to was one he had never visited before, despite it being fairly near to his own tribe; there had been no social contact so far. John was viewed with suspicion, and was told to report to the Chief.

“Who are you, and what are you doing in our territory?” the Chief demanded.

John quietly replied, “I am passing through on an errand of mercy to tribes to the south of here. I am a shaman and the Earth Mother has told me there are ill people who need my help.”

“Shaman, eh? Can you help anyone who is ill?”

“I don’t know, Chief. That is in the hands of the Earth Mother. I find that less dangerous ailments can be assisted; worse ones are more of a problem.”

“One of my women is about to have a baby, but she is having difficulty and the healers of the tribe say she will die. Can you look at her and tell me what you think you can do?”

John gazed at the Chief, and made a decision.

“I have to be able to lay hands on her, Chief,” he warned.”

“You are a shaman, so it is permitted.”

The Chief gestured for John to go into the Chief’s hut, and in moments John was presented with a woman in obvious discomfort, he distended belly showing her condition. Two midwives were hovering around, not sure what to do. John was authoritative.

“Move aside ladies. I am a shaman, and need to see the patient.”

They moved to accommodate him, and John looked over the girl, for she was not much more than a girl in his eyes; a teenager, certainly. He told her, “Remove your clothing, so I can see you better.”

She had a shocked look in her eyes, but saw the Chief behind John, clearly approving this strange shaman’s actions. She pulled her clothing off as best she could, exposing her naked body to John.

He looked her up and down, than transferred his gaze to her belly. He had spotted what he wanted to know. He moved forward and laid his hands on her distended front, feeling the shape of the baby beneath.

He turned and looked back at the Chief.

“The baby is in the wrong position. It can never get through her birth canal that way. The best solution is to turn the child inside her womb, to get it into the correct orientation. This means manipulating it from outside, and it doesn’t always work.”

“Go ahead,” was the Chief’s response. “The midwives can do nothing to help. It is outside their experience.”

John got down beside the girl and told her, “I need to turn your baby so that the head is pointing down. That way it can be born. The way it is now, you both will die; understand?”

Despite the shocking diagnosis, she grimaced and said, “Yes, sir. Please do what you can. My priority is to save my baby, even if I go to the Earth Mother. Can you manage that?”

John scowled and told her, “My plan is to save you both, even if I have to cut you open to pull the baby out!”

Neither she, the Chief, or the midwives, had heard of such a thing as a caesarean birth, so they were astounded at this Shaman’s words. John started feeling the baby to determine its exact position and so find the way to manipulate it into the head down orientation. This procedure was not normally done at this late stage, and the chances of success were limited, but needs must.

Once he had worked out where the head, bum, and legs were situated, he started pushing the head end gently with one hand while pushing harder with the other, to get the baby’s bum to move upwards while the head moved down. It took many minutes of persuasive pressure, but eventually he felt the child was now in a manageable position, with the baby’s bottom to the front, so the head must be facing the mother’s rear which was the best option. John stopped at that point afraid to do more. It was now up to the mother to complete the job.

He turned to speak to the midwives.

“You two: if you are to help with the birth I must insist that you scrub your hands clean first, using water which has been boiled and allowed to cool. Get me some of the same water, for my hands. Go and do that now, or I will not allow you anywhere near the patient.”

As they scampered off to obey, the Chief asked John, “Why wash their hands? I have not heard of that before.”

“It can mean the difference between life and death, Chief. The world is full of little beasts too small to see, and if they are allowed into a wound of any kind, they can cause inflammation and other complications followed by death – fast or slow. Clean hands cut down the chances of these beasties getting into a wound, including the birthing process. I would seriously advise you to clean your hands in the same way before touching her or the baby, if you want them to live.”

The Chief stared at John for a moment, then without a word moved towards the tribe’s fire area. He would quickly have some water boiled, then wait for it to cool before washing his hands clean of the invisible beasties. He didn’t care whether this was true or not, as long as the teenager and her baby lived.

The girl was already feeling less discomfort and thanked John.

“For a man, you seem to know what you are doing, sir. Why is that?”

“I was given some training in childbirth, so I know more than these midwives do; how much more, I am not sure, as I have not had to do much of this sort of thing on the spot.

I also know what NOT to do, and that includes cleanliness. Clean helping hands will often mean a healthy mother and baby; dirty hands can often mean death to one or both. It is as simple as that.”

The girl accepted this as a statement of facts and not knowledge from tradition. The midwives knew about simple birthing, but complications were beyond their level of competence. Knowing about such matters was not possible in the limited range of experience that a tribe could offer.

With the new position of the baby, her body seemed to think it was time to celebrate, for her contractions started again, this time with more vigour. John started looking for that boiled water.

A few minutes later, the midwives arrived back, and showed John their clean hands. Yes, the hands were clean but their was still dirt under their fingernails. John pointed this out, saying, “Dirt under the nails is as bad as dirt on the hands. Get these nails cleaned now!”

The Chief appeared with a ceramic bowl of warm water and some soapwort. John gratefully took the bowl and washed his hands using the soapwort, then got out his knife and used the point to clean under his fingernails. The Chief observed this, and when John concluded this, asked to borrow the knife. He then did the same as John had done, and offered his hands to John as proof.

“Thank you, Chief. You are now as safe as me. We shall see if these women have managed the same.”

They returned and this time showed clean nails. John thanked them for doing this.

“Ladies, in all healing treatment of wounds, do this every time, and you will get a better results from your treatment. Now, we are waiting for the contractions to come swifter and closer together, then we watch for the birth canal to start opening.”

He left the women to watch these prenatal processes in action, and went to the front of the hut with the Chief.

“Where are your other wives, Chief?”

“Gone to the Earth Mother, shaman. They were not able to be saved by the healers, either after a birth or after an accident with thorns or a fall. I miss these two women, and today thought I would have another wife to mourn. I might still see that, unless all goes well.”

“At least the chances have improved, now that the baby has been turned the right way for a good birth.”

“You seem to know a lot about birthing, shaman.”

“Some, certainly. I do not claim to be a medical man, a healer or such; just a shaman with knowledge gained from older shamans who knew what they were talking about. Much of life is down to what knowledge you have gained.”

“From what you told me earlier, you also know something about the future, or what is happening elsewhere. That is unusual, even for a shaman.”

“Information comes, and information goes. The trick is to be part of that flow. I have information which says that the invader army are leaving this area, but they brought some diseases and may have left them here. May I hold your hand, Chief?”

“As you are trying to help, then yes. What is the point of holding your hand?”

“In a peculiar way, it is a means of passing on a blessing from the Earth Mother. I did the same thing when I handled your woman and when I touched the hands of the healers. My touch passes on a blessing of improved health, so with a bit of luck, your healers will be able to do a better job in future. As soon as your child is born I will be on my way.”

Two hours later, they heard cries; the cry of a newborn baby and the delighted tired cry of a happy new mother. Even the midwives adding their cries of delight, and one rushed through to ask the shaman to come inspect the mother and baby. She looked to the Chief with a glance of fright. “I did not intend to stop you coming, Chief. It is just that the shaman, as a healer, should check things first.”

The Chief waved her away. “See to my woman. I will join you as soon as the shaman declares it safe to do so.”

The grateful midwife hurried John to the natal bed, and his patient. The girl-woman was cuddling her baby and kissing him in her delight, for it was indeed a boy, John could see. He gestured, saying, “May I see your little one?”

She revealed the wrinkled monkey-like baby, and John quickly assured himself that the child had everything essential, not even a birthmark or blemish.

“Now, about you: did you tear much down there, giving birth?”

“Just a little, sir. The women were very helpful. I didn’t bleed very much.”

“That may be so, but we need to protect the tears to your vagina. Get the midwives to apply a thin layer of honey on them. This will help prevent tiny beasts from getting inside and hurting you. Do this each day until the tears heal. Enjoy your son, new mother.”

She beamed at the words ‘son’ and ‘mother’.

John refused all offers of gifts from the Chief, saying, “I have a lot of travelling to do, Chief, so any extra load will simply delay me. A few bits of food to carry in my pouch is all that I would take from you.”

“In return for the life of my wife and child, that is nothing, shaman. If ever you need anything, simply ask and it shall be yours.”

With a full food pouch, John was back on the trail, heading south again; this time to the tribes on the border with the invader army, or what used to be the border. He had some rough country to get past before arriving.

It was a shock. There were people lying around or sitting down, looking exhausted. Some had other symptoms such as measles spots, but many were simply unwell and unable to fend for themselves. John immediately started laying his hands on the sick, or breathing into their faces, or both. He wanted to try every way he could think of, other than fucking the women. They would not appreciate that at this time.

His actions were being watched by a woman sitting at her doorway. She looked despondent. When John finally noticed her interest, he came over to her.

“Hello. Are you afflicted or not?”

“Not. I am just exhausted, trying to make sure everyone has something to eat and drink, for they can’t do it themselves. Try feeding over a hundred people on your own.”

John told her, “I am here to help you do that. I am a shaman and not likely to catch their diseases. Not everyone should be susceptible; surely you are not on your own?”

“I am now. Those who were not hit by this have fled.”

“Ah. I know the problem: fear. It is always this way; but you did not flee.”

“No. I knew I was probably going to die, and I simply prepared to meet the Earth Mother, and spent my time trying to help the others here.”

“Can I do something quickly to assist you? I have to visit other tribes, you see.”

“There should be enough stored food here for me to keep them eating for a few days, but water is short. Can you fetch some water from the nearest stream? I can give you leather bags to bring the water. We have a double hand of empty bags for that.”

“I expect I can carry two or three bags at a time, so if the stream is not far, I can get all your bags filled before I have to leave. When I come back with the first load, will you show me other people who are ill? I want to lay hands on them.”

The woman gave him a querulous look, but agreed. She showed him where the bags were, plus the direction of the stream, and he set off. In an hour or so, he had collected the water, and touched many more sick people, so he had done as much as he could. He said his farewell and was directed to the next tribe.

There, he found more sick people, and a few dead ones. That disturbed him, for he felt he was late in arriving, and that if he had been in time, they might have survived. Then he took note that the dead were all elderly, so they did not have much resistance to any ailment.

He spent more time fetching water or moving ill people under cover from the now hot sunshine, while the three unaffected tribespeople, all men, set about caring for the sick. The carers tried to object to John touching the sick, until he said, “I am a shaman with power, but I have to touch them to help them. Keep them supplied with drinking water and their chances of recovery will be better.”

He managed to deal with another tribe before darkness and exhaustion caught up with him. He found an empty hut and fell asleep.

He was up with the dawn, and on to the next tribe. Here he found the same situation, but more old folk and a few children dead. He helped by dragging the bodies to a section of jungle set aside for the dead. It was littered with bones from excarnated corpses over the years, and fortunately was downwind of the tribe site. After that, he repeated his task of water collection for the survivors to give to the sick. He did not offer to clean up the shit from the ill; that was a tribal responsibility, he felt.

Three more tribes were visited by him that day, with progressively more deaths in each. By the end of that day, he was sure that for any other tribes further into the Invader territory, the illness, or illnesses, would have run its course and those likely to die would have died or be so close to dying that his medical nanites would be too late to help. Nature would have to take its course.

John wondered about tribes within the Invader’s conquered territory. Death would have been widespread among the locals. Would that have made an impact on the invaders, encouraging them to leave? It probably would depend on previous experience by the leaders. If they were inured to this happening, perhaps they regarded it as the gods helping them to takeover a district. On the other hand, if decomposing bodies led to sickness among their troops, they might want to retreat and come back the following year. The retreat may not have been all a result of his pinpricks.

He posed a question to himself.

Should he move into what had been Invader territory, just to see what effect their presence had made on the locals, or should he head home before his family began wondering about his safety?

After consideration, he decided that heading home was the preferable option, as he could have another look at the tribes he had been through, and see if his visit had made any difference.

Then he realised that by going in the reverse direction, he would be back to some tribes within a day of his last visit, so decided that he should visit one tribe beyond the boundary, and then return.

He was still at the final tribe he had visited, so he asked the survivors where the nearest tribe within the Invader territory was situated.

“Half a day’s walk in that direction, Shaman,” he was told. That would make sense for his purpose, for the chosen boundary line would be best to not be too close to the next tribe. Half a day’s walk did not leave much time for visiting, but if he started tonight and got part-way there, he would have a little time available to explore the village, if it still existed.

He said his farewells and said what his intention was.

“With luck, I will be back tomorrow night or the next morning,” he explained. “I don’t intend to do much when I get there, mostly observe and look around.”

He was waved on his way, and he reckoned he had about two hours of daylight left. As soon as twilight started, he would have to find a place to bivouac overnight. The direction he had been given was a well-used trail wide enough for two persons to walk side by side, or pass each other in opposite directions. He viewed that with trepidation, as it might mean meeting an invader soldier still checking their territory, but he should be able to hear such a man in time to step aside into the trees and fade out of sight. He took that route, for the sake of speed.

The route was mainly through forest, but moved uphill to the crest of an 800-foot hill he guessed. It wasn’t too strenuous, but probably explained why the route was reckoned at half a day. His own fitness and unencumbered frame allowed him to keep a fast pace, so he was at the summit before dusk threatened.

He looked for a safe place to spend the night, and chose a fairly tall tree with strong branches where he could make a bivouac between two close branches. There were enough broad leaves on the tree to give him shelter should it rain. The same tree would be useless if it lost its leaves in the winter.

He climbed up and settled in, wedging himself between the branches and tried to make himself comfortable enough to sleep.

He drifted off, and was not disturbed during the night. When he woke, dawn was starting to light the countryside, and from his high position atop the hill, he could see much of the countryside ahead and below him. There was little sign of campfire smoke in the quiet air of the morning. That made him think of a depleted and devastated country down there. Looking down to the trail he had used, it led off to one side, and he tried to see if there was any sign of a tribe ahead.

He saw there was a gap in the tree cover an undetermined number of miles from him, so decided that was the location of the indicated tribe. He climbed down to ground level and looked for water to wash down his dried fruit breakfast, but being at the top of a hill, there was no nearby watercourse. He moved downhill, looking for some small spring on the hillside. The foliage usually indicated where water was to be found. The tree he had climbed was a slow-growing drought-resistant species that could send roots down any crack in the rock to find water.

He made his way through scraggly bushes and stunted trees clinging on to the slope until he reached an area of more luxurious growth. Here he looked for water, an artesian spring preferably. The sound of bubbling water led him to it, and as expected it tasted fresh, if slightly coppery.

He made his breakfast here, and assuaged his thirst with the cold water issuing from the rocks, and ignored the moss growing luxuriantly all round the exit point. Having eaten enough, he stood up and stretched to get the kinks out of his muscles after that position wedged into the tree branches. He wished he could remember the exercises that some martial arts recommended for easing the muscles; some memories were just not there, due to simple poor remembering. He hadn’t done them enough for these to stick.

He looked for the trail he thought should be obvious, and quickly spotted the gap in the trees. He felt refreshed and ready for the final leg to the tribe, to discover what the situation was with them. It could be anything from a recovering population to an empty encampment. He hoped it was not the latter.

Halfway there, he heard noises ahead of him; they sounded like voices, so he adopted stealth mode of approach. As he got closer, he could make out the words, so either it was the same language as the other tribes, or his nano-translators were working overtime.

“I still want to go home.”

“It is still too dangerous, Umma. Apart from the diseases – you might catch another one – the army people were heard to say that they would return once the epidemic had passed. They don’t seem to be concerned about catching the diseases. It is as if they couldn’t catch them at all, which is weird.”

“I want my mum!”

“She is probably dead by now. If there were tribespeople well again, they would be in the forest shouting for us, wouldn’t they?”

“Not if they thought we had a disease! They would steer clear of us. We have to let them know we are fine.”

“Umma, we just don’t know enough to take the risk. We can find enough fruit and nuts to feed ourselves for some time yet, so there is no rush.”

“But we don’t have to go into the camp; just look from the outside, Jeeka.”

John was a few metres from them by now, so he spoke up.

“I could go and look for you, girls.”

They both jumped in fright, having had no idea that anyone was near. John stepped out and just stood for them to view him. He said to them, “I am a Shaman, girls. I have some magical protection against these diseases, so I can go on your behalf and report back to you on what I find.”

The younger girl, who looked around ten or eleven, looked to the older one for guidance. She in turn viewed John with suspicion.

He decided to tell them more.

Girls, I am also High Chief for two tribes far to the north of here, and I have plenty of wives, so I am not in need of any young women I happen to meet. Fear not. The most I will do is shake hands, to pass on some of my magic to you.”

The older girl took a breath and asked, “You will come back and tell us what is happening at the tribe?”

“Yes. I promise that I will.”

“And bring back someone if they are well enough to come?”

“If that is what you want, then I agree.”

“All right then. We will wait here, provided it is safe.”

“Can you climb up into a tree?”

“Yes.”

“Well, if you think there is a predator in the vicinity, then climb high into a tree and wait. Stay there as long as you can, for predators can prowl around and come back to see if you have returned to the ground. The same goes for human predators, who might take advantage of two girls on their own. If that happens, scream loudly. I might be close enough to hear you, and come to help.”

“There was a man from our tribe. He became a man a year ago; and he was in the forest as well. He wanted to come with us, but I thought he just wanted to fuck us. I told him we were going to stay away from other people for several days, perhaps more, and between us we chased him away. I told him my father going to come and look for us that night or the next, and that was enough to scare him away. He might try coming back, as it was a hand of days ago.”

John declared, “Treat him as a predator, for he sounds like he is one. Any worries, get up high in the tree and wait.”

“All right. Go and find out what you can, Shaman.”

John offered his hand for a handshake, and tentatively she shook hands.

“Now your younger sister,” John insisted.

“She is not my sister, just another girl who did not die.”

“Whatever. I just want to pass on some protective power, hand to hand.”

The handshake was accepted, then John turned to leave.

“You are able to find food?” he asked.

“Yes. We learned how to forage from our mothers.”

John marked a couple more trees with his knife to tell him where he was when he returned, then a couple more line marks on his way back to the regular trail. There, he marked trees on both sides of the trail at a high level, so that it was not obvious what the marks were for, or which direction they indicated, but proved that it was a tall adult marking the trees, thus dangerous to encounter.

He went off down the trail, keeping an eye on everything around him so that he would have no surprises, such as the young man the girls had mentioned. He found no-one; the trail was deserted Not a good sign if you hope for a viable village.

As he approached the site of the village, the silence told him everything: no human sounds of children playing, adults chattering or going about daily business. He feared the worst.

Getting to the edge of the village, he could smell death.

He entered with trepidation, and was not surprised to see dead bodies lying outside huts. No-one had cleared them away. He stopped and called out, “Is anyone alive in this place?”

At first he thought there was just silence, then he made out a hoarse soft voice coming from one of the huts. He walked over to the hut he thought it was, and stepped over the smelly corpse that lay outside before looking inside.

He vaguely made out a body moving slightly, so he took a pace inside, trying to ignore the stink of shit that hung around. The body croaked, “Water.”

“I’ll go look for some,” he replied, and left again. Once in the fresh air, he looked for the best plant growth and headed over. He was right; there was a small stream which passed beside the village. He hoped none of the corpses had ended up in the water.

Now that he knew there was water, he looked around for a receptacle for liquid. One of the bodies had a cup of some kind lying nearby. It would have to be cleaned before he used it. He picked it up and returned to the stream to give it a good scrub using some gravel in the stream bed. It soon felt much cleaner, at least for emergency use, and John filled it with fresh water.

He carried it back to the hut and entered, saying “It is me back again. Here’s some water: do you need help in drinking?”

“Yes,” the voice admitted, so John took it over to the soiled bedding and the woman who lay in it. She was naked; obviously had thrown off her clothes when her temperature got too high. He was amazed she was still alive.

He knelt down and offered the ceramic cup to her dry lips. She sipped a little, and John withdrew the cup, saying, “A little at a time. Too much will make you vomit.”

“How ... how do you know?”

“I am a Shaman: I know what there is to know about such illnesses.”

“Ah.” She relaxed a little, seemingly unaware of her nakedness and that she was lying in her own shit. “More,” she requested, and John gave her a few more sips.

He asked, “Would you be able to eat a little dried fruit?”

She tried to shrug, but gave up, grunting, “Dunno.”

John sat down beside her and fiddled in his food pouch till he found a small piece of dried grape that he thought she might manage to swallow. He showed her, and brought it to her lips. She opened her mouth and he pushed it between her teeth. Without even trying to chew, she swallowed it and indicated the cup. He gave her some more water to wash it down.

She settled again, and John decided she was not quite as ill as he thought, but was probably on the mend from whatever disease she had picked up. He told her, “I’ll give you a little food and a little water from time to time, if you can manage to keep it down. Next, I need to change your bedding, clean you up and find you something to wear.”

This made her think hard, and at last she noticed her naked condition. With a despairing sigh, seeing no other option, she said, “Yes.”