I shook my head, even if I could light up the inside of that old morgue, I didn’t have the stomach to look in the windows. Still, I stared into the gloom and a green light began to slowly glow from across the blackened room. I gasped and tried to pull away. Why was he doing this to me? I didn’t know why he kept pretending that I had magical powers. That was simply ridiculous and I had seen enough.
“Be careful now, you don’t want to make it very bright. Green is a good color.”
I could now see the inside of the great-room and it looked lived-in and comfortable. There were two bright red sofas on a royal blue carpet. A fire appeared from out of nowhere and it began to cast a glow of its own around the massive fieldstone fireplace. From that point on, I was hooked like a fish.
“That is too much light.”
I nodded my head and the green glow dropped a shade of intensity. I knew it was Crooked Walker’s way of putting me on, but I was drawn to the light like a moth to a flame. A child suddenly charged into the room. The boy couldn’t have been more than seven or eight, and he was dressed in clothes that had gone out of fashion a century ago. He was a handsome boy with brown hair and he was dressed in a little jacket, vest, and tie. He wore shorts and red socks under a pair of lace-up boots. He was followed by a young girl, perhaps two years his junior. She looked like a perfect porcelain figurine, with flowing blond hair and a mischievous smile. She wore a crimson dress with white lace. The two children were the picture of happiness.
“Remember what you see here,” whispered Crooked Walker. “And do not make a sound.”
I nearly fainted when three men appeared from out of the blackness and approached the house on tiptoes. They were bare-chested and their faces were painted. They whisked by us without a glance. There was something strange about them. I could hear it in their whispers and see it in the way they staggered as they walked. These men were up to no good. I watched them as they paused at the door. One of the men opened a sack and handed the other two, black wigs. He then tied feathers to their heads to complete the illusion. The men wore cowboy boots.
I felt Crooked Walker’s hand grip my shoulder. I turned my head from the men to the children and I swallowed hard just as the front door crashed open. The two men in their Indian disguises charged into the room. I nearly screamed along with the children, but Crooked Walker gave my shoulder such a squeeze that I thought he had broken my collarbone.
“We have to help them!” I hissed. “Let me go!”
“This is the past, you cannot interfere,” whispered the old man.
What I saw next was enough to send a thousand gallons of adrenaline crashing through my veins, and I tried to twist away from Crooked Walker, but he held me like a cat in a sack.
I heard a man and a woman shouting from somewhere inside the house. The children let out terrible cries that went suddenly still. I closed my eyes to block out the stinging tears. The men let out exaggerated war whoops and they left their bloody weapons lying on the floor. I could see that these were not the knives of white men. What was happening here? To what end did killing these children serve, what motive would be so dark and sinister, and why did I have to witness such treachery? The father of the children was none other than Barnabus Soliah. I will never forget the look on his face.
“You needed to see that,” Crooked Walker said from the shadow of a tall pine. “I am sorry, but sometimes the truth can be a bitter thing. The source of a man’s evil can be traced back to its origin. You saw what happened in there?”
I nodded and the tears once again flooded my eyes. I held my hands to my face and wept.
We returned to our little fire and we sat across from each other as Odd Whitefeather snored on the lawn. Crooked Walker studied me in the firelight as I wrestled with what I had witnessed. A loon called from across the lake and was answered by another. I began to hear crickets and they calmed me in that crickety way of theirs. This man called Crooked Walker had powerful magic, and I was torn between being happy to have him on our side and wanting him to go away and to bring his magic with him. I had seen too much and I didn’t know if I would ever be able to sleep again. We sat there in the relative silence for a long time.
“Do not be afraid of me, Huckleberry,” Crooked Walker said, looking at me with pleading eyes across the glowing flames. “I will do what I can to help.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Well, I think you’ve helped enough for one night.”
“I let you in on a terrible secret, but it was a secret that you needed to know.”
“No, I disagree with you. What good could possibly come of me seeing something so horrible? Who were those men and how could they do that? What happened to them?”
“Those men were hired by a lumberman. There is a good chance that you could meet him before this is all over. Never trust him, he is pure evil and guided by greed and lust. He will want what you have, right down to your last breath. The three men were shot dead when they went to be paid. They spend eternity in a special place for men such as those.”
“They went to hell?”
“They pray to go to hell. They are in a place that is much worse.”
I thought about this for a moment and nodded my head. “Good, the bastards… I hope they’re getting what they deserve.”
The night was warm and I was sweating. Crooked Walker then did a strange thing: he clutched at his shoulders with his weathered hands and shivered. “I will not show you where they are, but you can be sure that they are being punished in ways that you cannot imagine. The lumberman is a man named Millhouse, who died long ago and has yet to be punished. He is a friend of Soliah’s, but I think that would change if he found out that Millhouse was responsible for murdering his children. I need you to help me deliver him to the Great Spirit for justice.”
“What are we waiting for?” I asked. “You just tell me what I need to do.”
“I will when the time comes, Huckleberry. I only hope you are ready.”
“Don’t worry about me.”
The loons continued to speak to each other from across the water and the crickets chirped with a million voices. The fire crackled and we were content to enjoy these sounds. The night passed quickly and soon the morning sun began to rise in the east. That morning there was a sunrise unlike any I have ever experienced. Low clouds blotted out the rising sun until it was just an orange sphere on the horizon. The sky in the east turned blood-red and small clouds danced across the crimson sky. The clouds were purplish and they churned into impossible shapes. I saw animals in the sky, every kind under the sun. These weren’t conjured up by my imagination; they seemed to be carved by the likes of Michelangelo. I watched them move across the sky as if they were running from something. My chest hammered when I saw my own face on a Mount Rushmore of a cloud. I gasped when I saw the other faces. Odd Whitefeather was next to me; on the other side of him was Crooked Walker. There was another face carved upon the hypnotic cloud, but I didn’t recognize it. The face was wild and angry, and it scared the shit out of me. I stared at it until it was only a memory.
We watched the sunrise without exchanging a single word; which didn’t bother me a bit, I thought I had been given enough information for one night. If Crooked Walker saw the same sunrise, he never mentioned it.
How did all of this fit together? I still didn’t understand why I had been summoned. These two guys didn’t need me. I didn’t have any special powers to share with them; Crooked Walker could pretend all he wanted to. I was an ordinary, average guy. Wasn’t I? The last face on the floating monument continued to haunt me; as did the charging devil from the depths of Hell. I was doing my best to block out what I had seen inside the house, but it was still there. I supposed that it always would be and the thought made me sad.
Daylight came and I motioned to Odd Whitefeather, who hadn’t moved an inch since he’d went to sleep. “Shouldn’t we wake him up?” I whispered.
“He is very tired and he needs his rest. Leave him be.”
I nodded, but Crooked Wal
ker’s answer somehow got under my skin. I let it sit there for a while, simmering. I thought that he had slept long enough, and I was ready to start whatever the hell we were supposed to do. I hadn’t asked to come out here. The gleaming white house stood out like an abomination on the freshly cut lawn. It seemed to be taunting me, or more likely, it was haunting me. Either way, I wanted to get things moving. I had lived alone for longer than any man should ever have to. I wanted to try and find a wife before it was too late. The thought was never far from my head. I watched Crooked Walker as he sat like a lump on a log. His eyes were glazed and unfocused as he stared out over the lake. “When are you going to tell me what I need to know?” I asked. “Shouldn’t we have a plan?”
“True knowledge needs to be digested a little at a time,” Crooked Walker said in his raspy voice. “That is what keeps children young, and is what separates wise men from fools. I am not finished with our lesson. Are you ready for the test?”
Oh shit, I thought to myself. Here we go again. I nodded my head, knowing that I couldn’t turn back now. “Anytime you are, bring it on,” I said.
“Bring it on?” Crooked Walker asked, arching his white eyebrows on his wrinkled forehead. “Bring it on! I like that. I may use it one day.”
“Right… So, whenever you’re ready?”
“Do you see that piece of driftwood down by the water? I want you to bring it to me, but I don’t want you to move to do it.”
I looked down toward the water at a waterlogged limb and back to the old man. There was a twinkle in his eye and he slowly nodded his head. “I keep trying to tell you, I’m not like you guys. I can’t do those sorts of things. I wish I could, but I just can’t.”
“Concentrate on the driftwood.”
“You’ll just wave it over here to try and make me think that I moved it. Why do you want me to think that I have special powers? I don’t and I never will.”
Crooked Walker’s eyes darkened. “Stop with your blabbering and do as I ask. You have to believe in yourself, in whatever you put your mind to. You sound like a spoiled child. I can’t do that. How did you ever learn to walk? Do you think that it came easy to you? Close your eyes and concentrate. I want that piece of driftwood.”
The tone of his voice had changed and I thought I would amuse the old guy. I closed my eyes and actually concentrated on doing what he had asked of me. After a few moments I began to see bright colors in my mind’s eye and felt some strange muscle flexing inside my brain. I began to feel dizzy and I opened my eyes. The colors were gone and there was a plopping sound on the lawn. I looked to see the piece of driftwood, which was about the size of human leg, lying wet on the green grass.
“You do have special powers,” Crooked Walker said with a smile. “I did not do that.”
The look on his face was enough to convince me that he wasn’t making it up. I still felt a little woozy from the experience, but I managed to return the smile.
“I feel much better now,” Odd Whitefeather said from over my shoulder. “A man needs his sleep.”
Chapter Five
Brindle's Odyssey Page 7