I couldn’t believe where we were. It defied logic, outside my wildest imagination. The incredible boat made the long whaleboats of Joy’s people puny in comparison. These boats had to be over fifty feet long—maybe longer. I couldn’t judge with any accuracy. They were immense—capable of carrying an entire war party of I don’t know how many men. It boggled the mind and my poor mind had seen about enough of the bizarre and unthinkable. It couldn’t take much more—this side of eternity.
The men who’d abducted us weren’t that different from the men back in the village. Squat with broad chests, well muscled and they had the same straight black hair, fringed over the forehead or parted down the middle. True, they had elaborate tattoos on their faces and upper torsos, but nothing else set them apart. They wore the same colorful blankets and cedar bark hats and tunics, their feet bare.
The most frightening men I’d ever seen with cruel and cold dark brown eyes. What else could I think? They’d taken us against our will. They were brutes; cowards; villains. They were to be despised. And that came easily—despising them. I didn’t just despise them; I hated them with all my heart and soul. What right had they to pluck a new bride from her home? To take me? Who did they think they were? Gods or something? They would rue the day they’d ever laid eyes on me. I’d make their lives miserable even if I died doing it.
That fed my malnourished hope. Hope had lain shriveled in my heart—weak and starved. My hate for these men nourished my hope and kept it alive.
Then I remembered every Sunday school lesson I’d ever learned. “Love your enemies…be good to those who do you harm”. Now I had a physically painful battle raging inside me. So I closed my eyes and prayed. I prayed like I’d never prayed before.
It was pitch black out by the time they beached the war canoes. I’d no idea where we were and mentally kicked myself for not having paid more attention in social studies class. It’d never seemed that important. Who cared what happened over a hundred years ago on the West Coast? Vaguely I recalled names like Haida and Tlingit—but they were nebulous; just wisps of memory. The only reason I even remembered their names was because my grandfather had loved talking about his beautiful, wonderful Pacific Northwest. God’s Country, he’d called it. No finer place on the planet, he’d said. No pollution here, he’d bragged. Steeped in history; full of adventure and allure. On and on and on, he’d go, and I’d listened—more because I loved my grandpa than because I cared a hoot for Washington State history and geography.
Now, I’d give anything to hear my grandpa tell his stories.
But I had no leisure time to reminisce. The warriors leaped from the boats and yelled strange, guttural words to one another. Then they hauled Joy and me out of the canoe and shoved us up an embankment to a level spot where I assumed we’d be making camp for the night. Joy had yet to utter a word. For the entire journey, she’d been stoically silent—just staring out at nothing…and everything. I’d long ago given up on getting her to speak. And at first I’d resented this, feeling sorry for myself that I was alone without her support. But then I reasoned she’d grown up dreading this very thing, and now it’d become a reality. A reality at the brink of her newfound happiness with He-Sees-Far. I couldn’t blame her for being catatonic.
Huddled together at the foot of an imposing Douglas fir, Joy and I sat and waited. I tried not to dwell on stories of captured women in the hands of ruthless men. The thought of one of them touching me made me tremble so badly I couldn’t breathe. So I put it out of my mind and concentrated on what went on around me. I had to be alert—ever ready in case an opportunity for escape came along.
The men talked among themselves with the familiarity of old comrades. They laughed and guffawed and punched one another playfully—like little boys on a Scouting trip. In a matter of minutes they had fires going and fish skewered over the leaping flames. Cedar bark mats were spread out and blankets laid. It seemed we’d eat, sleep and be ready to disembark early the next morning. Where would we go? Somewhere up north? Somewhere past Vancouver Island? I reined in my thoughts like runaway horses. If I allowed them free rein, I’d lose it for sure.
I didn’t sleep well that night.
NINETEEN – THE RESCUE
Despite my convictions that I couldn’t and wouldn’t sleep, I slept. With a shock we awakened in what seemed the middle of the night to loud yells and scrambling men kicking up fir cones and dried needles in their haste to find cover.
We were being attacked. Somehow, some enemy attacked the sleeping camp, and our captors appeared livid with anger at this outrage. Watching them madly gathering weapons and things made it apparent that this sort of intrusion seldom happened.
I sat up and strained to pierce the protective cloak of darkness. I couldn’t see a thing; couldn’t figure out who or what the enemy was. I scuttled closer to Joy and wrapped my arms around her. We clung to one another without saying a word or making a sound. Our captors paid no attention to us, their only goal to survive and to escape—with or without us.
We huddled, in the middle of a black pool of darkness hearing grunts and groans, thumps and thuds, oaths and orders—all around us—audible but invisible. The fires had been doused immediately so no light except from a pale moon veiled in gauzy clouds. I couldn’t see anything solid, only blacker shadows moving within lesser shadows. My remaining senses were alert, however. I heard a million different sounds, felt the earth beneath me tremble and vibrate, smelled sweat and blood, tasted fear and nausea.
A heavy body suddenly fell on the ground in front of us, close enough to see the deep gash across the neck—the open, sightless eyes. I let out a strangled cry then shut my eyes so I wouldn’t have to look at it any longer. I had to bite my tongue to keep from screaming. The last thing I wanted, to attract anyone’s attention. The new enemy could be even worse than the old one. Just when I thought I’d reached the pinnacle of terror, a higher level had presented itself. I wasn’t sure I could take much more.
The fighting lasted an eternity yet there was one positive thing. The battle moved away from us and going farther down the beach. Joy and I sat at the foot of the tree—apparently forgotten. This was our chance. I scrambled to my feet, swayed dizzily for a moment, and had to hold onto the tree for balance. When I felt orientated, I reached down to grab Joy’s hand. “Come on. We have to move.”
For one agonizing second, I thought that my friend was too frightened and demoralized to move, but then she blinked, looked up at me as though seeing me for the first time, and pushed herself to her feet. She, too, swayed a little as she summoned the dregs of her courage, but I held onto her and whispered words of encouragement.
Minutes later, we groped and crawled and stumbled into the forest and away from the beach. Our audible gasps frightened me. Motioning for Joy to stop, we hunkered down under the low hanging branches of a cedar and gulped in lungs full of air. It took several minutes, but finally we resumed normal breathing without the loud, ragged gasps and coughs.
Too exhausted to move, we just sat there and listened. The sounds of fighting diminished. No more grunts and groans, and screams and cries of death. The silence terrified us since we’d no idea what happened. Had our abductors left? Had this new enemy slaughtered them all? Who’d been victorious? Were the victors right now, this very minute, combing the woods for us? Did they even know we existed? I wasn’t cut out for this kind of adventure, trauma, heart-stopping terror. I’d never been what one would call adventurous. My dad always told me to try new things, join clubs, take up a sport. I shied away from confrontation. How could this be happening to me? Me? Plain, unassuming Hannah Green from Atlanta, Georgia. Just Hannah.
Hannah. My mother had seen the name in a book and fallen in love with it. “Hannah” meant “graceful one” and I’d grown up secretly resenting the implication because I wasn’t all that graceful. Jonah forever teased me whenever we went ice skating or did anything requiring balance. Maybe She-Who-Speaks-Many-Tongues was a better name for me.
I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the trunk of the tree and released a sigh so long that it was like my life’s breath had escaped. I knew that if any men approached us now, I wouldn’t be able to run—let alone move.
A noise startled me and I held my breath. I knew Joy heard it too, because her body stiffened beside me and she fumbled for my hand. Together, we sat, rigid as stone, and waited for the sound to repeat itself.
It did.
Someone or something walked stealthily our way, moving in the darkness like it wore night vision goggles. In this topsy-turvy world anything could happen. If a US Marine materialized before my eyes, I wouldn’t blink an eye. In fact, I half expected to see a forest ranger or Marine or someone from my own world. It would be a fitting end to this nightmare.
“Hannah?”
I nearly jumped out of my skin.
“Hannah? Hannah, where are you?”
Jonah! Jonah, of all people, had found us. Impossible, but Jonah was here. I swallowed twice, licked dry lips, and finally found what was left of my voice. “J-Jonah…Jonah, we’re here. We’re here.”
A dark form incarnated out of the blackness and I looked up into the face of my cousin. He was bloody—his lip swollen and one eye partially closed—but the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Then, right on his heel, Gray Otter appeared and my heart did a somersault. Behind him came He-Sees-Far and Talks-Too-Much. The Indian youths looked even worse than my cousin, but at that moment I thought Gray Otter the handsomest boy in the whole wide world. Choking back a sob, I literally flew to my feet and threw myself into the arms of my cousin. Jonah hugged me fiercely. Then, forgetting all about customs, I threw myself at Gray Otter, and he wrapped his arms around me, too. It might not have been their custom to hug one another but Gray Otter caught on fast. He hugged me like a pro.
He-Sees-Far had extended his hand to Joy and my heart surged with happiness at the look of utter disbelief and exaltation on her wan face. Her eyes literally caught on fire. I smiled at my friend. “See, Joy? The owl didn’t foretell your death, after all.” She only sighed and leaned against her husband.
“C’mon. Let’s get the heck out of here.” Jonah said. “For all we know, those guys may be on their way back.”
The boys helped Joy and me walk, and we made our way back to the beach, stepping over prone figures that never again would see the sun rise. But it was the third body we had to pass that made me suck in a breath in profound shock. Sand Eater. Dead. I closed my eyes and swayed a little and would’ve lost my equilibrium if Jonah hadn’t caught me. Sand Eater—dead. Even though I disliked the youth—no, despised him—he had been too young to die. And he had joined the others in the rescue. Whether he had done so out of macho pride or real concern for our lives, didn’t much matter. He had died in the endeavor. It was too, too awful.
I shuddered at the carnage and waste of human beings. War is ugly no matter when or where it takes place.
When we reached the beach I was further surprised to find half a dozen boats filled with men and youths from the village, waiting silently. The little kids who’d escaped had certainly gotten the word out in time. Our people had been able to follow us. Incredible but true. Such determination and courage and love inflated the heart and soul. Realizing that so many had come for us, I prayed that the bodies we’d stepped over had not been more of our own people. I couldn’t bear the thought that men with whom I’d seen working and laughing and playing, had died to save me. It would be a very bitter pill to have to swallow.
Joy and I were put in one of the long boats and the men shoved off. I didn’t see how they’d be able to paddle all the way back to the village across the sometimes very rough strait—especially after the strenuous voyage here, followed by an intense battle—but they were going to try. Chief would have to give a really wonderful potlatch after this. The village would be partying for a month to celebrate this victory.
Overcome by severe exhaustion mingled with the contradicting feelings of acute elation and euphoria, I settled back against the bundle of blankets wedged at the bow of the canoe and willed my body to go limp. Joy huddled close to me for warmth, but her eyes never left her husband, who labored with one of the paddles.
We had gone about a quarter of a mile when the most curious thing of all happened. One of the men lifted a pole that had a crude but effective sail attached. It immediately caught the wind and we moved at an incredible clip. Without keel or rudder, the canoe skimmed along the surface like any modern skiff, but lacked enough stability to make turns or to tack. An unexpected phenomenon but at least it would carry us along, and give the men a chance to rest from their backbreaking labor.
Then I saw Jonah looking at me with a wide, triumphantly smug grin, and I knew he’d had a hand in this miracle. He laughed. “What’s the matter, cuz? Don’t believe your eyes?”
“When did they learn how to use sails?” I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders. “I mean…I’ve never seen them use sails before.”
Jonah’s chest expanded. “It’s my doing. Two days ago, tired of paddling all over the place and killing my back and arms, I showed Gray Otter how to make a sail. It was a patched-together-quick piece of work but I got my point across. He was ecstatic. Man, you should’ve seen his face when I demonstrated how it’d work.”
“Yes,” Gray Otter interjected from his place behind my cousin. “This was something I could not believe. I knew then that Jo-nah was a chosen one. He possesses great power. My father’s spirit rattle rightfully belongs to him.”
“Yeah,” Jonah added. “Be sure to remind me to thank my dad and Uncle Mike for teaching me how to sail. Never in my wildest dreams did I think it’d save anybody’s life, though. Incredible, huh?”
I nodded. “Yeah, Jonah…it’s number thirty-seven on my list of incredible, amazing, miraculous, impossible things. From now on, nothing is going to surprise me. I’ve been satiated with surprising things.”
My cousin laughed. “You said it. Now get some rest, kiddo. You and Joy have had enough excitement for one day. Try to sleep if you can.”
“Thanks, Jonah. I will. But you’re wrong about having had enough excitement for one day. Joy and I have had enough excitement for a lifetime. No. Make that two lifetimes.”
Jonah made a face. With a laugh still on my lips, I closed my eyes and drifted to sleep as the prow of the flying canoe neatly severed the next swell.
TWENTY – THE FINAL JOURNEY
We had been back at the village for three days. Chief, not to mention the entire clan, had been overjoyed to see us. And just as I’d expected, a great party was given in our honor. Each man and youth involved in the rescue was given the opportunity to tell his part in the adventure. Even Jonah was allowed to stand before the village and speak. I was so proud of my cousin that I could’ve burst. If only I’d had my camera. Our family back in our world would be speechless with the wonder of it. But, then again, it probably would be so unbelievable that they’d all drop dead from heart attacks at the enormity of the whole bizarre thing.
The fourth day after our return, Jonah pulled me aside and whispered, “Today, Hannah.”
I was too startled to respond for a moment, then I stammered, “T-today? Today, what, J-Jonah? You mean go? I-I don’t know…I-I’m not sure we…”
He gave me one of his sternest looks. “We have to, Hannah. We can’t stay here forever. We’ve got to try to get home.”
“But, Jonah…what about Joy and G-Gray Otter and-and the others?”
“What about them? They’ll be all right. This is their home—their time. We’re the ones out of sync. We’re the ones who aren’t all right, Hannah. You know that.”
I bit my lip and a shudder passed through me. I threw my hands up to my face. “I-I know…. Oh, God. I’m so confused.”
His face softened and he put an arm around my shoulders. “I know. I’m really sorry, Hannah. I’m going to miss them, too.”
“But how…how are we going to do it? We can’t
just up and leave…. Chief won’t let us. We’re valuable. W-we’re property, Jonah. At least…at least I am. I don’t know about you. Everybody’s pretty much convinced that you’re some great shaman.”
Jonah grinned wryly. “Yeah. Funny how the tables have turned, isn’t it?”
“Yeah…real funny.”
“Don’t worry, Hannah. I have an idea. I’m pretty sure they’re going to let us go…if it works” He reached into his jacket and pulled out his earphones. Dangling them in front of my face, he grinned again. “If they give us any trouble, I’ll just wow them some more. What do you think they’ll do when they hear music coming from Gray Otter’s little spirit box?”
“They’ll go ballistic.” I frowned. “But, Jonah…what if they don’t work here? I mean…we’re not-we’re not in our world. Maybe radio hasn’t been discovered yet…”
“Well, that’s something, all right, but I had a tape in the Walkman. Carrie Underwood. I’m counting on it still being in there. I don’t think Gray Otter ever tried to open the ‘spirit box’.”
“Yeah, but what about the batteries? What if the batteries don’t work?”
“Quit trying to borrow trouble, Hannah. We’ll gamble that it all will work. Okay?” He chuckled. “Man. Won’t Gray Otter and the rest of them be surprised. I can’t wait to see their faces.”
I tried to smile but it came out a tad crooked. Somehow, teasing Gray Otter or any of the people left me feeling cold and incredibly weary.
* * * *
We’d just finished eating our mid-day meal when Jonah suddenly stood up and walked purposely over to the chief. He’d the foresight to wait silently until the man recognized him and then spoke—loudly and authoritatively. “Sir…I have come to ask a great favor from you.”
Chief nodded, his eyes narrowing and his chin jutting up. Jonah continued. “Sir…Hannah and I must leave the village. Today. We must return to our own people. We can, uh, no longer stay here with your people.”
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