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

said. “You were pretty wasted.”
“I don’t know what’s happened since Jack’s death,” Robert said. “I’ve lost everything. Fran is gone. The house and my job have gone too. Worst of all Mary’s disappeared.”
I’ve been keeping up with you and your family.” Charles admitted.
“The police questioned Mary’s boyfriend, but he said he let her out at the river ramp after they fought. He won’t talk to me.” He paused and sniffed the air. “Oh my God, what’s that smell?”
“That would be you Mister Woodle,” Charles answered mater-of-fact.
Robert looked down at himself and cursed. He realized he sat covered in dried mud and vomit.
“My God,” Robert exclaimed. “What’s happened to me?” He put his head in his hands and began to cry. “What did I do to deserve this God? What?”
“Mister Woodle,” Charles Blackfoot started. “I don’t think you’re being punished,” He said as he put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I think God’s brought you here to bring an end to the River’s rampage.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in God,” Robert said after getting control of himself. Charles offered him a towel.
“I never said anything like that,” Charles, corrected. “I just said your pastor couldn’t help you.”
“Well you were right about that,” Robert said. “Hey, I need a shower.”
“It’s out back,” Charles said pointing with his finger to the back door. He led Robert Woodle to the outdoor shower and let him bathe. He smiled as Robert cursed the cold water. While Robert washed, Charles got him a pair of jeans and clean shirt to wear along with shoes and socks.
“Do you still have the Looking Stone Robert?” Charles asked as his guest shaved.
“I’m sorry but no,” Robert confessed. “I guess Fran or Mary took it when they left.”
Robert put on the Rolling Stone’s t-shirt and jeans. He sat down to put on the shoes and socks.
“We’ve got to find that stone,” Charles said.
“I have no idea where it could be,” Robert said as he tied his shoes.
“Robert you do,” the shaman countered. “Don’t you realize that you’ve been fighting a higher calling in your life? The reason you have become an alcoholic is that the task ahead of you is greater than you can wrap your mind around. The reason your wife has left is that the evil spirits in the swamp and river are trying to dishearten you. You got into that fight with the biggest guy you could find because you wanted to show the Great Spirit you are not strong enough to combat what he is calling you to fight.”
“You make it sound like I’m some mystic Indian warrior,” Robert said standing up. He walked to the camper window and looked at the forest that surrounded them. “I’m Irish, Blackfoot.”
“But your mother’s family has strong Indian ties,” Charles said. “I’ve been researching your family history Mister Woodle. Your faith in God, love for your family, and ties to the Mystic forces through your ancestors make you the perfect man for this fight.”
“Suppose you’re right,” Robert said. “Suppose Jack and Mary are alive and in some other realm created by God in answer to the prayers or spells of angry shawmen. How do we get them back?”
“That’s a start,” Charles said with a smile. “You’ve opened your mind to hear the call.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Robert objected. “I’m just willing to listen to what you have to say.”
“Like I said,” Charles said walking to his friend. “That’s a start. From here it should be pretty easy.”
Robert looked into the dark shadows of the forest as Charles explained the path that lay ahead for the Woodle family, and he purposed in his heart to see his children again. As Robert began to learn of the mystic journey he was going to travel Mary faced a new threat.
“Do you know what this is?” General Towen asked Mary. It was early dawn and the two were standing at the edge of a muddy pool of sand. Thick fog rolled around them making the swamp unusually eerie.
“No sir,” Mary said meekly. The teenager had spent the previous day in the garden, night in the stockades and now she was exhausted. Lack of food and exposure to the sun and harsh elements had brought her to an almost anorexic size. The stockades and beating had broken her spirit. She rubbed her rope burnt wrist weakly.
The General looked down at his prisoner and smiled. “It’s quicksand,” He said simply. “Lieutenant, how about you give a demonstration to the young lady?” The soldier that accompanied his commander took the captive he had brought and pushed in the young boy. Mary watched the youth struggle to get out. She went to help him but the General stopped her with his riding stick. The sand and mud clung to the boy’s legs and the bar lap sack he wore. The more he tried to struggle free the deeper down it took him.
“You see my dear,” The General said as the boy’s head disappeared beneath the sand. “This swamp is full of these quicksand pits. His Majesty sent me to regain control of this area when the Swamp Fox started raiding our supply lines and killing the Tories. Time after time, my troops and I chased him and his men into this swamp. I fell off my horse into a pool much like this one and wound up here. Over the following years, more of my men came here until one day they just stopped coming.”
The quicksand’s surface returned to its original appearance. The General nodded to his subordinate who had tied several vines together then rapped them around himself. He gave the British salute to his commander then jumped in after the boy.
“For years the swamp gave us nothing,” General Towen said as he watched his soldier’s progress by the moving vine. He cursed as the man surfaced with the boy’s body and struggled to solid land. “Then it would turn up soldiers from a war called the Civil war, and from time to time we would discover the river depositing men, women, boys, and girls such as you.”
The Lieutenant pushed the body onto the land and pulled himself up. Mary watched as they stripped the youth of the bar lap sack then dumped the body back into the quicksand.
“I believe that these quicksand pits are gateways back and forth to our world,” He said. “There are thousands of them through out this swamp, and I will use every captive I have until I find a way to get my men home.”
Mary looked up horrified at the General as she realized his terrible plan and thought of going under water again. “Please . . . sir!” She tried to run but the General grabbed her arm.
“No!” she screamed. “Please General! I don’t want to die!” She cried as they came to another pool of quicksand.
The General held Mary in front of him.
“For a long time we were content to simply live at Fort New England.” The General said as he stroked Mary’s long black hair. “Then we understood we were not going to ever be rescued or see our families again unless we took action. By now, even our great, great, great, great grandchildren are dead. We cannot kill ourselves you see. Good soldiers do not do that. And since we have no enemy to fight we can only grow old, but you have seen that option is not a good idea either.” He pulled at the skin on his face.
“We’ve tried to engage the other people the swamp have brought here in an effort to get them to kill us, but you see that is a futile effort because the cowards run away. So we use those we capture to test the quicksand pits until we find one that will take us back home and let us die a natural, hopefully quick death.”
“Please,” Mary pleaded. “Don’t.”
“I’m sorry my dear. . .” The General said. “I’ve got to take care of my men.”
Mary screamed as the soldier pushed her into the pond. She struggled to the surface gasping for breath. Mary fought panic as she slowly sank in the mixture of mud and sand. She watched the General and his Lieutenant staring at her as she sank up to her neck in the mire. “Please. . .” she pleaded coughing as sand, water, and mud filled her mouth. “Daddy!” she closed her eyes and tried to picture her family. “Mommy,” The quicksand choked the word out of her as she sank beneath the surface.
For what seemed like hours, Mary sank slowly in the quicksand. She opened her eyes expecting to see either the gates of heaven or hell. All she saw was the blackness of the pit. Her lungs felt like they were about to explode as the arm of the Lieutenant wrapped around her and pulled her to the surface. Mary gasped and breathed in deeply as the soldier pulled her to the safety of the land. The General allowed her to lie on the ground heaving sand, water, and mud out of her lungs. She lay there breathless, as her tormentors quietly talked something over and seemed to reach an agreement.
Without a word to Mary, the soldiers forced her to stand. She stood as they tied her hands behind her back and then marched through the swamp to the fort. When she returned, Mary marched to the prison yard. Mary barley reacted when they removed her soiled garments. The other prison girls poured buckets of cold water over her head washing off the quicksand. Mary could hardly feel her body shivering. Mary put on the new sack given to her, and then followed the guards to the stock aids. Because of the awkward position of kneeling, Mary could not get much rest. Her inner thighs burned from being raw due to the march while covered in the quicksand. Her feet stung from burst water blisters and her muscles and back ached. The limited movement allowed by her prison offered no relief. A whippoorwill sang in the darkness and she heard the occasional hoot of an owl or cry of a bobcat. She looked down to see the feet of General Towen. He knelt beside her and stroked her hair.
“It’s horrible isn’t it?” he asked.
“What?” she asked.
“The feeling of drowning is horrible,” he said.
“Yes,” Mary said.
“I guess the stock aids are quite uncomfortable too?” the General asked.
“Yes sir,” Mary admitted.
“I’ll never forget when I fell into that first pit,” The General said standing. “I called for my men, and saw them in a similar situation. I called for my horse that kept on running. I felt the sand fill my boots, pants, shirt, then slowly creep up my face.” Caleb ran his finger up Mary’s cheek