Caught In The River - Ronald Lee (book reader for pc TXT) 📗

bullet striking a nearby tree. His newfound friend tried to keep running. “I’ve got to take a brake,” Jack begged. “They’re too far back.” He put his hands on his bare knees and breathed deeply. “Thanks,” he said and held out his hand. “I’m Jack.”
“I’m Cappy,” The young girl said. She was as tall as Jack was and had long light brown hair. Her deep blue eyes stared angrily at Jack. “Don’t think me yet.” She warned.
Her appearance shocked Jack. Her hair with broken twigs and leaves in it hid a light-skinned face smudged with mud. She wore a single piece deer skin garment. Her legs and arms looked muscular although covered with mud.
Cappy looked at Jack’s expression questioningly. Then her eyes widened as she saw the red-jacketed pursuers approaching.
“Come on!” She said. Cappy grabbed Jack’s hand and led him deeper into the swamp.
For what seemed like hours, Cappy and Jack evaded the redcoats by hiding in hollowed out tree trunks or behind fallen logs. They would duck under the branches of weeping willows or even take cover in beaver dams.
“What’s going on?” Jack asked as they rested under a tree. “You’re in the River.” Cappy explained. Jack did not understand. “No, we’re in the swamp. In addition, those people are going to get their tails kicked when my dad gets here. They must be some red necks from a civil war reenactment.”
“Jack!” Cappy said forcefully grabbing his face in her hands. “You are not where you were. You are not anywhere or any time near your father! You are caught in the river.” Jack still did not understand what Cappy was saying. She cautiously looked around and rose to her feet. “At last,” she said. “I think they gave up for now. We can go home.” Cappy took Jack’s hand and started walking.
“Where is home?” Jack asked. “Who are you? What’s going on?” Cappy kept walking and smiled at Jack. He thought she had a wild but beautiful look as the broken sunlight revealed her slender athletic frame.
“You are in a place we call the river.” She explained. “I came here when I was five. I do not know how. All I remember was playing with my daddy in some water and I went under then I wound up like you. A lady picked me up and took me home with her, and I’ve been here ever since.”
“How old are you?” Jack asked.
“I don’t really know,” Cappy said. “Fifteen or sixteen I guess. Brian will tell you more when we get home.”
Jack did not see a reason to keep questioning Cappy. He followed her through the swamp until the earth became solid under their feet. Then Cappy led Jack to a clearing where there was a pool of water. She lay down on her stomach and started drinking. Jack watched her for a minute then started drinking too. The water was not Pepsi, but it was refreshing.
Cappy stood up after a minute of drinking. “Okay,” she said. “It’s time to go.” Jack watched her look around one more time then she stepped into the pool of water.
“Where are you going?” Jack asked as she waded out into the pond.
“Home silly,” Cappy said and pointed towards the bottom of the pond.
“Oh,” Jack said and followed her path. He looked down thinking Cappy was starting to freak out on him.
“Follow me,” Cappy said happily, as she waded a few feet further into the pond then dove beneath the surface. Jack watched the ripples and looked back behind him. He saw the shadows of the swamp which surrounding the pool and decided that at least for the moment his best bet was to stay with Cappy.
Jack dove beneath the pond and saw Cappy’s feet disappear into an underground cave a several feet below. He followed her down and caught up as she swam in a tunnel. Pushing himself along, Jack followed Cappy through into an underground cavern. He coughed after he broke the surface of the water, and he breathed in the musky underground air. Cappy pulled herself onto the moss-covered ground and helped Jack up.
“Be careful, it’s slippery as heck.” She cautioned. A single torch lit the dark cavern where the two now stood. Jack ducked to avoid the roots of trees above him. Moss covered the natural underground labyrinth. Jack slipped as he and Cappy started down a long earthen corridor.
“Who is Brian,” Jack asked Cappy.
“My new mom and dad’s name are Brian and Soho.”
A thought suddenly entered Jack’s mind. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.” He started. “I’ve heard stories like this before. A child gets separated from their parents and . . .”
“Wind up being abducted, brainwashed, and abused.” A male voice finished the sentence.
Jack looked up, and saw a tall black man dressed in deer skinned pants and vest. He felt a wave of fear sweep over him as Cappy ran up to him and kissed him on the cheek.
“This is Jack,” She said happily. “He’s new here.”


CHAPTER THREE

Robert, Fran, and Mary held each other sorrowfully as their pastor prayed for them. They were standing in their home after Jack’s funeral. It had been two weeks since Jack disappeared in the Big Pee Dee River and the Forest Ranger told them they were calling off the search. Fran regretted the outburst she had made under the command tent when the officer told them they had to call off the search of the river because they found no sign of her son. After the funeral, friends and family tried to comfort the Woodles.
A news crew from Pee Dee 15 came to do a feature on the tragedy. Now the couple along with who they believed was their only remaining child stood together mourning with their pastor.
“I just can’t believe he’s gone,” Fran said shaking her head after the pastor said “Amen.”
“I should have gone down there with him.” Robert said. “It’s my fault.” He went to his recliner and sat down.
“Yeah, you’re right. It was your entire fault!” Fran said. “What happened to the Safety First rule you always preach? Or swim with a buddy?” She added.
“Jack’s dead mom,” Mary yelled back. “Don’t take it out on dad!” Fran slapped her daughter before she could stop herself.
Mary held her red face and stared angrily at her mom then raced to her room. Robert got up and stopped Fran from running after her.
“She’ll be alright honey. We’ve all got to process this.”
“Oh, go to hell Robert!” Fran screamed. “I’ll never forgive you for letting Jack die!” Fran paused and looked at their pastor then ran out the door. Robert stood silently in the den with his head down. Pastor Gregg walked over and put an arm around his parishioner.
“Robert, I’ll be praying for you and your family.” He promised. “Thank you pastor,” Robert said. He felt like telling him where he could go with his prayers. “I’ll show you out,” he said instead.
Robert watched the pastor get in his BMW and started to close the front door when he saw an old blue Ford pull up the driveway. Robert stepped back onto the porch and watched a Native American get out the driver’s side. He was tall and weathered with long gray hair and carried a black doctor’s bag. He wore a blue jean shirt, pants and tennis shoes.
“You Robert Woodle?” he asked as he came to the foot of the steps.
“Yes sir,” Robert said. “Listen I really don’t care to talk to anyone right now.”
“That your preacher?” the Indian asked motioning behind him.
“Yeah,” Robert answered. “What of it?”
“He’s a good man, but can’t help you or your son now.”
“Look mister. . .” Robert indicated he needed the visitor’s name.
“Blackfoot. Charles Blackfoot.” The unwelcome guest said.
“Mister Blackfoot I and my family really don’t need any visitor’s right now. Maybe you could come some other time.” Robert answered declining the standard handshake.
“Mister Woodle, if you don’t listen to what I have to tell you then there won’t be some other time.”
Robert looked at his visitor for a moment and scowled. There was nothing that a middle aged Indian could tell him that could help his family at a time like this. “Have a good day Mister Blackfoot,” he said and opened the door.
“Mister Woodle, Jack is alive.” The sentence angered and confused Robert. He quickly slammed the door and got in Charles Blackfoot’s face. “Look here Charles! I don’t know what type of game you’re playing, but I want you to get in that truck and get off my property now!”
Charles did not move.
“Give me ten minutes of your time.” He offered. “If I don’t convince you what I’m saying is the truth I’ll never come back here again, and I’ll give you two thousand dollars I really don’t have.”
Robert clenched his fist and glared at the Native American. He then thought about it and the angry, hurting wife and daughter in the house. He would do anything to make them feel better.
“Okay,” He said. “You’ve got ten minutes.” He led Charles Blackfoot to a set of rockers on the front porch and listened to his story.
“Mister Robert, I’m the Shaman for the Pee Dee Tribe of Native American Indians. I believe the reason your son was not found by the Forestry Rescue team is because the river wouldn’t let them.”
“Okay,” Robert started.
“You said I got ten minutes right?” Charles reminded.
“Alright,” Robert conceded.
“What do you know of Frances Marion?” The shaman asked.
“We live in Marion County don’t we?” Robert quipped.
“Right. Well there is an old Pee Dee legend that says the reason he had his fox-like abilities is that a shaman whose family was murdered and raped via the British Redcoats prayed for the Swamp Fox and imparted to him the ability to overcome the troops. Every time the Swamp Fox raided the British the shaman was there praying. Not only was he praying to the Great Spirit for help but other shawmen in other tribes were praying for the British troops to be taken from their lands.”
“So what does that have to do with Jack?” Robert asked.
“Mister Woodle, I believe that the Great Spirit heard the prayers of those shawmen and opened temporal doorways into another realm. From time to time those doorways still open.”
“You’re telling me my son got caught up in a one way trip to hell?” Robert asked. “I don’t believe that,”