Savage Dawn

by Patrick Cassidy

  Exhausted from his long journey, Chris finally reached the Whayani Indian reservation after driving day and night, stopping only for a brief nap in the parking lot of a diner in Wyoming.

  He was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open, but he knew he had to find his grandfather quickly. During the long drive, his mother’s body had been unpreserved and nature was taking its course. The heat hadn’t helped matters.

  This burial had to be performed today.

  The Whayani reservation wasn’t very large and a helpful map aided Chris in navigating his way around. He had vague memories of many of the buildings he was seeing. It wouldn’t take him long to locate his grandfather, he thought. However, as Chris drove along the main street in town he realized that things had changed drastically. The roads and sidewalks were littered with rubbish and the buildings that had once been proudly maintained were now falling into disrepair, as though the people had lost their spirit and the pride that had once been prominent in this society of warriors.

  Those roaming the streets of the reservation’s main town eyed his car suspiciously as he drove by them, many of them sallow faced and hollow-eyed as if a virus had smothered the area like a blanket, turning them into sickly zombies. Here and there, he occasionally saw signs of his people’s culture, buildings adorned with Indian beads and dream-catchers, blowing gently in the wind. Few still wore clothes that faintly represented their heritage and those that did, tended to be congregated in the same areas, as though segregated from the rest.

  Chris was saddened by the changes he was seeing in the reservation.

  Pulling into a parking lot outside the monstrous casino that swallowed up the other buildings in its shadow, Chris prepared himself mentally for the apathy that he would no doubt encounter from many as he attempted to locate his grandfather. Before exiting his beaten up vehicle, he glanced in the mirror and flinched, as though struck. His face resembled that of many of the reservation townspeople, eyes dark and unnaturally wide as if he’d been pumping the same poison into his system that had taken his mother.

  He reminded himself that when it was all over, ‘if’ he wasn’t in handcuffs, he would have to get some sleep.

  Expecting the same treatment he had received all those years before, during his Uncle’s funeral, Chris stepped out of the car and headed across the half-empty parking lot. His eyes watched for the tell-tale signs that confirmed he was entering unfriendly territory. Around the entrance to the casino, a few shady looking characters loitered in the shadows, eyeing him as he made his way towards the doors and he wondered what they were doing until one called out to him, “Hey, kid. What you looking for?”

  The voice had an unfriendly quality to it and Chris turned towards the sound, expecting to be berated for being different or encroaching upon land that he didn’t belong on, but instead the figure, wearing jeans and a baggy shirt waved him over.

  Chris stood where he was, unmoving.

  “You looking for some ice?”

  The man, who looked just as pale and goggle-eyed as many of the other residents he had seen, smiled. Chris saw he was missing his front teeth, making him appear much older than he must have been.

  Chris shook his head, shocked at what he had just heard, “No, I don’t do that shit!” He turned and walked off, pushing through the double doors into the casino, feeling anger boiling up through his veins. It seemed everywhere he went; his people were willingly filling their bodies with poison. He didn’t see the attraction himself, but somehow he knew why many of his brethren had chosen to immerse themselves in drugs and alcohol. The pain and anguish they still felt at their humiliation and eradication from their lands by the white man still burned as brightly as it always had and with unemployment figures in the reservation soaring, there was no hope for the Whayani tribe.

  Little by little, they were destroying what remained of their heritage. He gritted his teeth as he heard the beeping and buzzing of the gambling machines and the raucous cheers of the casino denizens. This is what they had been reduced to.

  Talking to several members of the casino’s staff, all of them white, Chris learned that his grandfather would more than likely be in the center of the reservation where a tightly knit community of tribe members still followed the old-ways. His grandfather, a chief, had to be there. Chris made his way back to the car, his body aching with tiredness, and started the engine; sure he had found what he was looking for. He looked back towards where his mother lay in the trunk of the car and nodded to himself.

  Almost there…

  It didn’t take Chris long to locate his grandfather. He was in a meeting with several elders, and when Chris appeared in the doorway to the hall, all eyes fell upon the outsider.

  Chris experienced the familiar feeling of being unwelcome once more. His grandfather, seated at the head of the long meeting table, met his eyes and Chris knew he had recognized him because he saw a faint glimmer of emotion. It was fleeting though, and after a brief moment of uncomfortable silence, his grandfather – Chief Thunder Bear – turned to the others seated with him and continued the meeting in native tongue.

  Chris couldn’t speak their language and for a few moments he stood in the doorway, unsure of how to proceed while they ignored him.

  Trying to get their attention once more, Chris walked over to the table and began to tell the story of his mother’s drug addiction and subsequent death, and that he had brought her so that her spirit could be sent off in the traditional way.

  The Chief winced briefly when he learned of his daughter’s death, but stifled any real emotional reaction.

  What the hell is wrong with this man?

  When they still didn’t respond, there was only one thing Chris could think of that would get their attention. He returned to his car outside, gently picked up his mother’s body and returned to the meeting hall with her cradled in his arms, wrapped in the decorative blankets she had once used to keep her warm at night while she lay unconscious on the sofa. Chris didn’t understand their refusal to acknowledge him or the fact that one of their own was dead. His grandfather had lost his daughter, but he still barely batted an eyelid at the news. What he was about to do would get their attention, he was sure of that.

  Striding up to the table once more, he placed the body on the table top, the smell of decay now palpable, causing several of the elders to gasp and cover their faces at the stench rising from the wrapped body.

  “There you are, grandfather. Your daughter!”

  He looked at his grandfather once more, and he at last saw a reaction worthy of a father. His old face became grim and he rose immediately up from his seat, speaking to the other elders. It sounded like he was giving orders and at once the other elders began to file out of the hall, followed by their leader who looked into Chris’ eyes as he passed him, grief clearly visible in his strong brown eyes.

  Outside, they began gathering wood and it seemed they were preparing a fire. That only meant one thing; they were going to give his mother the funeral she deserved. Chris smiled, triumphant. He didn’t care that they shunned him. All that mattered to him was that his mother be put to rest.

  Chapter Seven

  Chris watched as the tribal elders, assisted by several younger men, collected wood and other materials which they began carrying to an old run down shack 100 meters away on the edge of town, by a small hill

  He guessed this was yet another traditional burial ceremony of which there were several. This must have been the express version, he thought. Still, it didn’t matter. Express or not, he had achieved what he come here to do.

  As they worked like ants, quietly efficient, Chris carried his mother’s body back to the car and placed it gently onto the back seat, before returning to the clearing where they continued to gather wood and other materials. Despite their refusal to acknowledge him, Chris walked over to the clearing and began gathering wood, which he then placed inside the ramshackle hut with the other materials.

  Several times, he tried to c
atch the eye of his grandfather as he worked; hoping time might soften him but with every attempt it seemed as if his grandfather didn’t even know he was there. He shrugged, they were still so proud after everything that had happened to them. In a way, it was comforting to him to know that there were at least some tribe members left who still valued the old ways and would until they died. He wondered what would become of his people once his grandfather and the other elders were gone. Would they be completely lost?

  Night was beginning to fall and the air was growing colder by the minute, causing Chris to shiver as he stood by the doorway of the hut, watching as his grandfather tossed some photos of his mother as a young woman onto the pile, before turning and walking off to stand a few meters away. The activity around the hut was dying down now and Chris realized they were almost ready to begin. As he passed the hut on his way to his grandfather he saw clothing laid out around the pile of wood and other artifacts. It was a child’s clothing, and he guessed it was his mother’s from long. It must have been painful for his grandfather to burn the traces of her away like this.

  He approached his grandfather with the intention of asking him to take his mother’s body and set it atop the wood within the hut so they could begin but before he could utter a word, the hut was lit and began to burn brightly, the flames traveling high up the sides of the walls of the hut already, in the windless night that had fallen while they worked.

  “Aren’t you going to put her body in there?” Chris asked his grandfather, trying to meet his eyes.

  His grandfather simply stared at the fire as it grew more intense, as did the other elders and tribesmen gathered around. No one moved. Only the crackle of the steadily growing fire could be heard and Chris began to panic.

  “Please, someone, help me with the body?” Chris pleaded but they ignored him.

  He turned and saw that the hut was engulfed in flames now, the wood creaking and popping as the fire devoured it hungrily. Anger coursing through his veins, he ran to his car and heaved his mother up onto his shoulder before turning and running with her to the hut, his aching body protesting under the strain.

  The doorway to the hut was still relatively untouched by fire and Chris leapt through the flames beginning to lick around the door frame. Once inside the quickly growing inferno, he said goodbye to his mother, tears suddenly beginning to fall at once as he released her body and let it fall onto the burning wood with a shower of glowing orange sparks.

  The hut groaned loudly and a sudden loud pitched noise began as the structure began to give way around him. If he didn’t act quickly he would be burned along with his mother. It wasn’t time. He wasn’t ready to die; there was still so much to do.

  Chris covered his face with his arms and leapt through the burning doorway with seconds to spare. As he ran from the structure, the roof caved in and the walls began to fall inwards, no longer able to stand the heat. He paused, watching the hypnotic flames and the smoke rising up into the night sky.

  Still furious, now with tears streaming down his face, he strode past the watching elders and his grandfather. They were stone faced and as implacable as ever. He glared at them, unable to believe the way they refused to mourn his mother.

  There was no use hanging around any longer. He couldn’t stay a second longer with this sorry excuse for a tribe.

  As he walked by them, Chris found that he couldn’t bite his tongue any longer,

  “Is this what you wanted? She was sick… not lost, not gone, not forgotten! Trust me on that. I can never forget..."

  He waved his hands at the old men in anger and walked away into the night, heading for his car. Tears continued to stream from his eyes as he, at last, would allow himself to experience the horror and bottomless pit of regret that he had felt at his mother’s passing.

  His body smoldering in the cool air, still hot from his jump into the fire, Chris disappeared into the night.

  STAY TUNED…

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  The Savage Series continues with Episode Two: Savage Heart, scheduled for release in April of 2013.

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven