This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locations or persons, living or dead or undead, is entirely coincidental.
This book is dedicated to Holden Ryan Sluis. I hope these stories find their way to you in your early double digits.
Table of Contents
A Story for Enchu
And The Scroll Read...
Statues in the Southern Marsh
Chapter 20- The Lost Chapter
Pick-up on Hill 136
Seven Forty Seven
The Treasure Map
The Bronze Coin
The Supervisor
Blackheart
A Deep Dive
Vega's Lullaby
A Story for Enchu
Enchu walked quietly along the jungle path following his brother and father. They made little sound as they passed the large trees with their white trunks, wet from the morning rain. The three came along to a place where the trail split. The two in the lead went right.
“Father,” Enchu asked. “Why do we not go the other way? Would it not be faster?”
“That is good you have become old enough to feel where you are in the jungle, Enchu. But, no. We do not go that way. Can you not see that path has not been disturbed for many years?”
“But why father?” Enchu passed his brother, who had paused with his father to walk beside his youngest son.
“That way is death.” Matchu said to his son very seriously. “We must never go down there.”
Enchu looked up at his father with his curious brown eyes. What did his father mean?
Matchu knew it was time to tell his son. The others had been small when it happened; Enchu not yet born. “I will tell you a story,” he started, “of when a stranger visited us and why we use that path no more.”
“My brother came to me and said he had seen men traveling up the river in our direction. They were a few days away and had guns. I hoped not to see them and began to consider going into the jungle until they passed. The evening I heard this news, the stranger appeared.”
“I was working on arrows when he walked silently out of the jungle into the center of our huts. I was so surprised I jumped up to grab my bow when he spoke. He spoke our language like he had spoken it from a small child. I put down my arrows as I listened to this tall white man with black hair speak so kindly to me. He could not be the pack of men from the city downriver that my brother had sent warning of.”
“I invited him to the fire and he took off his pack. We talked. I do not remember what we spoke of that night, but I could see in his purple eyes that he was a friend. Your mother gave him food, and he played with your brother and sisters, who had never seen a white man before. As it got late he stayed in the center hut with promise to say goodbye before he continued upriver in the morning.”
“The next morning the men with rifles came. I came out of our hut late to the sounds the men entering our camp. Your mother and all my children were up. I had forgot all about the white man. The new men were from the city, just as your uncle had said. I did not know if they were slavers or colonistas. But, they demanded food and began saying bad things about your mother. They asked me 'how much for her'. I was angrier than I had ever been! I went to strike one and another pointed his rifle at me. He had no soul I could see in his eyes.”
I walked away towards an outer hut in a panic. These men could not take my wife. Remember that Enchu, you must never let evil men harm your family! You must do anything.” Matchu paused. “And so that is what I did.”
“The white man with black hair suddenly appeared as I left the center hut. He motioned to me and I began to cry out silently to him. When I got to his side he told me not to worry and handed me a black knife with a curved blade. I will never forget that knife, as I have never seen one so well made in all my life. He told me to put it sideways between the bones of the first man, right below his nipple.”
“I heard screams as the men began to leave, dragging my wife and your brother. The white man was much larger than the biggest in the gang of men. I thought he would try to fight them with his hands. We ran together, back to the center and I grabbed the first one I could touch. With a hand over his mouth I used the other to put the knife where I was shown. I will never forget the hot breath that came out as the man screamed his last.”
“As we ran, the white man drew a small gun from his pack. This was like no pistol I have ever seen, Enchu. It was black like the knife and had a long thick part coming off the end. Faster that I could imagine he shot two of the men several times in the chest. The pistol was very quiet, much more quiet than the ones I have seen the army use in the cities. It was as loud as someone clapping their hands. Two men fell and the third ran. The white man did not run after him, but paused and shot four more times. At last he fell to the ground.”
“He turned to walk back, removing part of the pistol and putting a new piece in its place. He smiled and said we must get rid of the men. I wanted to throw them in the river, but he would not have it. I was in a panic and did not think that someone would find these men and come looking for us. The white man was very smart and not excited like the rest of us.”
“So now you see, Enchu, why we do not walk that way. We do not walk past ghosts of men who tried to steal my family. Who tried to steal you while you were inside your mother.”
Enchu was silent. He was amazed at what his father had just told him. He had never known his father to be so brave as to kill a man larger than him who had a gun.
“What happened to the white man? What was his name?”
“He left. Went up river and we never saw him again. And I cannot remember his name. It was hard to pronounce and quickly left my mind.”
They walked along in silence again until they got to the clearing where they would continue the work on their river canoe.
“That is why I am called Enchu,” he said. “It means traveler.”
“Yes son, you owe your life to a nameless traveler.”