Riapoke

by Bryan Nowak

  Meghan, still cradling Kyle’s head, said, “You didn’t do a very good job.”

  “I fear the lady is correct,” Johnathan said with a heavy sigh. “About fifteen years ago, we lost the amulet which allowed us entrance into the cave. The amulet is also the other half of the magic keeping him imprisoned. When the amulet resurfaced, I tried to return, but the so-called reverend refused to allow me back in town. Earlier today, I sensed his spirit released from the grips of the demon. Your actions were a catalyst, setting things in motion. I knew my time had arrived.”

  Mike looked at Kyle. The boy rested comfortably for the moment. Although he didn’t know anything about witch hazel, the bleeding slowed considerably. “Well, you’re too late. That Indian ran off.”

  “So sure about that, are you? That’s the problem with this generation. You rely only on what you see and don’t trust your instincts. Yes, he is physically gone, and you made sure of that; however, his spirit is far from released.”

  Meghan stared blankly. “What are you talking about? Please, explain this to me. What is my boy suffering for? Why did we do all of this?” A twinge of hysteria colored her voice.

  The old man smiled at her. “Be at peace, Meghan.” Seeing her surprised expression, he added, “Yes, I know your name. I know all your names. They were written in stone hundreds of years ago, the same stone which hung from Kyle’s chest. The entire story of this was written the day Matchitehew entered his prison. And today it comes to an end. For his part, Kyle represents the earth spirit, the one who reclaimed the stone. The one called Mike, represents the sea spirit who came by water. It is he who released Matchitehew from his earthly bond.”

  Mike interrupted, “What the hell does that mean?”

  “You killed him.” The old man held up a finger like a teacher clarifying a point to his pupil.

  “What about me? Why did I go through all of this?” Meghan asked.

  “Ah, Meghan, you are the sky spirit; the vessel who carried the earth spirit who retakes the stone and restores balance to this land. According to the prophecy, you were also the sacrifice that the boy wouldn’t accept. In short, your son would die to protect you and that is the purest love. But, now you must go. This story is coming to its conclusion.”

  Mike spoke up again. “One more question; how was it possible Matchitehew convinced all those people to help him … to kill for him?”

  “Matchitehew understood what many of us still struggle with. Everyone has a weakness for one of the deadly sins. Most people give into pride. Many others give into lust. Still others, avarice. Humans, be they Indian, white, black, or any other shade are all the same. If we don’t know enough to watch for stumbling blocks in life, we’ll trip over them. That high priest wanted a comfortable life and took the easy way, with promises of power if he only gave a little more every time. Until, one day, Matchitehew took it all. Don’t be blind to the world around you, or you’ll risk falling into the same trap.”

  The old man dug into his jacket pocket, pulled out a set of keys and threw them to Mike. “The boy will survive; however, you must get him to a doctor. He’ll need stitches and stronger medicine than I can provide. You’ll find a Jeep in the parking lot waiting for you. When you are done, leave the keys at the desk at the resort. I’ll want my car back, at some point.”

  “But what about you?” Meghan asked. At the very least, they owed the old man a ride. It didn’t seem right to just leave him here.

  Shaking his head, he said, “Sky spirit, our pathways will only cross once in this life and never again. I have one last act I must complete before I take my rest. There is something that must be done to erase the evil which has taken place here. A sacrifice must be made to bring the Gods Okee and Ahone into alignment. I bid you farewell, take care of each other.”

  Meghan abruptly stood up. Glancing at Kyle, she implored, “Mike, he’s right, we need to leave.”

  Mike picked up Kyle and carried his lifeless body through the remains of the church building. Stepping out of the gaping hole left by the truck, Mike turned around to see the man making a hasty pile out of the hymnals and saying something while holding his hands up in the air. The books instantly burst into flames.

  Outside, they found the Jeep. Mike put Kyle in the back seat and buckled him. The boy stirred faintly, but didn’t open his eyes.

  Leaving the parking lot and turning onto the main road, a thunderous explosion rocked the area and caused the Jeep to vibrate. Mike glanced up into the rear view mirror to see the church building inextricably fully engulfed in flames. The small fire Johnathan had set shouldn’t have spread that quickly, nor cause any kind of large explosion. However, after the day he had, Mike wasn’t about to question anything anymore.

  Five minutes later, a sign bearing the words “Now Leaving Riapoke” appeared on the side of the road. Mike allowed himself a relieved smile as he rocketed over the bridge which marked the city limit.

  They’d made it.

  The Deep Sleep

  Kyle’s head throbbed like someone had taken a tire iron to it. How long had he’d been out? It could have been days or weeks, it was anyone’s guess. Eyes shut against the blinding fluorescent lights of the room, the smell that filtered through the haze suggested a hospital. Out in the hallway, nurses talked with doctors from time to time in phrases and words indicating Kyle suffered a “temporary coma”. Then a different, more familiar sensation overtook all others. Someone was holding his hand.

  He cautiously opened one eye and focused on the darkest thing in the room, as the light momentarily sent a searing pain through his head. Gradually he opened both eyes. He looked down at his hand, to see his mother holding it. She was fast asleep, awkwardly resting her head on the side of the bed.

  “Mom?” he said, feeling bad for waking his sleeping mother.

  She picked her head up from the side of the bed and smiled. “Oh, Kyle, sweetie. My dear sweet boy. You’re awake.”

  Kyle’s mind continued to reboot and flashed of the last event before waking up in the hospital bed. Some sort of battle with the Indian and then everything went black. “What happened? Did we win? Where’s Mike?”

  She laughed. “Yes, we won. Mike will be here in about an hour, he’ll be happy to see you’re awake. I’m just glad you’re okay. I was so worried. How are you feeling?”

  Kyle rubbed the side of his head. “I think the proper term is, like ‘crap on a cracker’.”

  A young woman walked into the door carrying two paper cups with lids on them. It took a moment to recognize Mike’s daughter Kelley.

  She did a double take and smiled at him. “You’re awake! You had us worried for a while there, bro.”

  Kyle looked at her quizzically. “Bro?”

  “Well, not yet. Don’t worry, you and I’ll talk after the adults are gone.” She smiled at Kyle. “But I’m happy to see you upright and talking.”

  Meghan squeezed Kyle’s hand. “You’ve been out for two weeks with one hell of a head wound. Kelley helped me stand watch. I wanted familiar faces in the room when you woke up.”

  Kelley sat down in the chair on the other side of the bed and poured him a cup of water from a small carafe. “You gave us quite a scare there, hero boy.”

  He took a sip of the water as she held a straw for him. “What?” he managed to croak out, surprised at how dry his throat felt.

  Meghan spoke up, “Had you not taken the amulet when you did, none of us would be alive to tell the tale. You saved us. But, rest for now. I’ll tell the doctor you’re awake.”

  Meghan left the room, and Kelley leaned in close. “Okay, I’m only going to say this once, and if you repeat it, I’ll swear you are lying.” She smiled and put her hand on Kyle’s shoulder. “Thank you for saving my dad, Kyle.” She gave him a kiss on the forehead. “You’re going to make a great step-brother.”

  The doctor came in and asked a few questions, after which, Kyle drifted off to sleep. On one side he felt his mother’s hand, and in the other hand he f
elt Kelley’s. He’d have to remember to press Kelley for details when he woke up.

  ****

  “Matchitehew, you have committed a great evil. How do you answer this tribunal?” A muscular man, in a headdress, sitting in the center of a circle asked. Surrounding him, other native American men sat. On their heads they wore feathered headdresses of different length and ornamentation. They watched the man in the center with deference. His presence commanded respect.

  Matchitehew, facing the one sitting in the center of the circle, tried to stand up. However, the leather bindings holding his hands in place also bound him to the floor. Instead, he puffed out his chest. “This court has no authority over me. I’m the rightful heir to all that is our destiny. You have no right to pass any kind of judgment over me, Powhatan.”

  Powhatan, un-phased by the outburst, calmly reached forward and slapped him across the face. “You will address me as chief!”

  “I will do nothing of the sort. I took back what you stole from me.”

  Powhatan shook his head, “You killed innocent people for your own personal gain. Did you really think you’d get away with that?” His face remained stoic, as if resigned to Matchitehew’s obstinacy.

  “I killed the white man, who has no problem stealing from us. You are too blind and too stupid to see that.”

  The chief shook his head. “This is what you never understood. People of all tribes must learn to live in harmony. Anyone trying to gain power over the other will upset the natural balance of things.” He frowned at Matchitehew. “I had such high hopes for you. All you had to do was atone for your sins to be allowed back into the great circle. Instead of accepting your punishment, you committed an even worse crime. Now, the Earth, Water, and Sky Gods have passed their judgment on you. Your fate has been sealed.

  The fire in the center of the room leapt skyward and everyone, save Matchitehew, vanished. Finding that his bindings vanished as well, he jumped up and ran out of the tent. He came to an instant halt outside the tent flap, a mere foot from a cliff which dropped into infinity. The speck he now inhabited, floated in seemingly endless space. Around him, a grassy plateau covering thirty feet in diameter made up the extant of his world. A dark sky dotted with a million stars surrounded in every direction. In the distance, too far away to reach, other pieces of land floated just as aimlessly.

  “You can’t do this to me!” He screamed at the top of his lungs. “I’m the rightful chief of the Powhatan nation! I’m the leader.”

  A fire burst forth from the center of the grass. The flames laughed, mocking him. “And your wish is granted, you are now the leader of your own tribe. Name it what you want. From now on, you answer only to me.”

  Matchitehew felt a sudden pang of fear, as the dancing, flickering flames alternated between red, yellow, and blue. “Who are you? What do you want from me?”

  Flames rose up in response to the question. The voice laughed again. “It isn’t what I want from you. Rather, it is what you want from me. As Powhatan explained, the Earth, Water, and Sky Gods have decided you are to be mine. Your punishment is sealed.”

  Matchitehew sneered at the fire. “You think this is the end? I escaped once and I’ll escape again. No prison can hold me.”

  “So sure are you? Even now, at the end of it all, you are too self-centered to understand. Too blind to see what your own ambitions have bought you.”

  “Who are you? What is your name that you should speak to me in such a manner?” Matchitehew screamed in anger.

  Fire from the center shot into the air. The light flashed so bright it caused him to cover his eyes. When the flash receded, in the center of what was the fire pit, a man stood made entirely of flame. He wore a brightly colored warbonnet which extending down his back and disappeared into the ground behind him. “I go by many names. I’m called The Tormentor, Fallen Angel, Mephistopheles, Beelzebub, The Beast, and countless other names. For you, I have a special name. You may call me, Riapoke.”

  The End

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Once again, I have slogged through the art and craft of writing to bring you a tale. Naturally, I have to thank tons of people for their love and support during this process. Of course, Riapoke couldn’t even exist without my wife who supports my obsession of writing; although, I am sure there have been nights where she wanted to take my keyboard and beat me over the head with it and run off to be with her other husband who we are sure is a pool boy named Juan in California. Her love and understanding is a huge part of this book. I also have to thank my children for putting up with all of this! The character of Kyle is drawn heavily off my son Thomas. As all my kids get older, the more proud I am of their accomplishments, and I am pretty dam proud of them anyway.

  There’s no way I could’ve made it to this stage if it weren’t for my beta readers, who stand at the anvil of literary creation and beat the storyline until it approaches something readable. They do it for the love of reading, and that’s what makes them all the more amazing. I need to send a huge shout out to my fellow writers at the Independent Authors Support and Discussion group who patiently answer questions and encourage me daily. I also want to thank my editor, who believes in my abilities. His help, encouragement, and support are absolutely critical. To him I say, be patient, I’ll get this whole writing thing correct someday.

  MOST IMPORTANTLY! I need to thank you, the reading public. Ultimately, you ordered or bought this book over all others in the world. You are the reason I write. You could’ve chosen to read anything but you chose to read Riapoke, and I want to tell each and every one of you that it means the world to me.

  This book is dedicated to all the independent authors out there struggling every day to bring their imagination to life. Stick with it, future generations will thank you.

  Other Books by Bryan Nowak

  No Name

  The Dramatic Dead

  www.bryannowak.com

  https://www.facebook.com/Bryanthewriter

  Twitter: @Bryan_TheWriter