We woke up to a gray sky and a swirling wind. The temperature was warm for first light and thunder rumbled to the south. I sat up and scratched my head, wishing I had a hot cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal. The squirrels had accumulated a large pile of acorns and a small mound of them lay next to me. They were eating and Red nodded to me to do the same. I shook my head. “No thanks,” I said. “I’ll grab something a little later.”
Otis looked up from a clump of prairie grass. “You can’t be skippin’ breakfast,” he said between chews. “It’s the most important meal of the day.”
I shook my head and caught sight of Goober, his snout was covered in blood and he lay licking his paws. It looked like everyone was getting breakfast, but me. I sighed, stood up, and stumbled off into the pines to take care of some urgent business.
We were walking a few minutes later. The storm fizzled out after a brief attempt at rain and the sky began to clear. My stomach began to grumble and then to shriek. I felt weak and lightheaded, and knew that I was running on empty. I found myself praying for food.
My prayers were answered two minutes later.
The small picnic basket was sitting in the middle of the path. Goober had found it along with a note and he trotted back to urge us forward. I fell to my knees and flipped up the top to the wicker basket, wondering why it had taken me so long to pray about my problem. I promised myself not to do that again. The basket was full of food, tucked away in the corner was a roll of toilet paper. I smiled. I was two peanut-butter sandwiches into my brunch before I opened the note. It was from Abe, telling me to enjoy the contents of the basket, but that there was no time to waste. They didn’t have much longer.
The lunch was complete with a jar of ice cold milk and a small slab of apple pie.
“What do you got there?” asked Otis, ambling up next to me and sniffing the basket.
“Nothing much, just my lunch; nothing you’d be interested in.”
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that? I smell apples…”
Otis and I shared the piece of pie and he chewed his food as if it were the finest thing he’d ever tasted.
The afternoon was warm as we continued our walk. The terrain fell flat and the earth grew soft under our feet; the air here was stale and stagnant. Moss covered the exposed rocks and boulders in three shades of green. Standing water forced our troop into a narrow line that followed the driest route across the wooded swamp. We threaded our way along a hint of a trail as clouds of hungry mosquitoes swarmed us. The ravenous insects attacked me without pity and I did my best to defend myself, it did little good. I spent that afternoon hiking in wet sneakers, swatting bugs and itching mosquito bites until my skin was raw. They seemed particularly interested in my ears and the heavy earrings only made that worse.
We painstakingly emerged from the vast swamp a few hours later. The woods here were thick where only the narrowest rays of sunlight penetrated to the earth. We began to spread out across the floor of the forest, as the going here was much easier compared to what we had just crossed. I walked with Red and we chatted about this and that; I found that the two of us really weren’t all that different. We both wanted basically the same things out of life. I may have craved steak and he loved his acorns, but beyond that we were basically the same. Otis joined us after Goober barked at one of his witticisms.
We walked along in silence for a while when Otis suddenly froze in his tracks. He sniffed at the air and he was immediately joined by Goober.
“Do you smell it?” Goober asked, holding his snout in the air. “I think we are close.”
“I do,” said Otis. “Should we go take a look?”
Goober nodded his shaggy head. And without another word the two of them raced across the pine needles. Otis sprang high in the air as he bounded along, while Goober stayed low, powered by his muscular hind legs. The race looked to be a dead heat, before the two of them disappeared from my field of vision.
“Show offs,” muttered Red. “I’d rather be quick and sneaky, you’ll see…”
I wondered what he meant by that, but I didn’t ask. Red looked disgusted and he continued to follow the two scouts. I followed him, deep in thought. What were we supposed to do when we got to Walker? Was I going to lead my army of forest creatures into the old settlement? We’d be slaughtered. I knew then that our only hope was to maintain our stealth and to free my grandfather using our wits. I just hoped that I had enough left to make that happen.
Barely five minutes had passed before Otis and Goober trotted back to join us. Their silence gave the news away. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t be good.
“We couldn’t get close,” said Goober. “There are no trees out there and there were men everywhere. What should we do?”
Red looked hard at Goober and shook his head. “What should we do?” he said sarcastically. “Why don’t you open your ears and listen? He is trying to tell us what to do.”
“Who are you talking about?” I asked, leaning up against a moss-covered boulder.
“The Oddfather, who else would I be talking about?”
I nearly chuckled at hearing my grandfather being referred to by that name. Once again the squirrels bowed down in reverence. “The Oddfather…” they whispered together in their tiny squirrel voices.
“What does the Oddfather want us to do?” I asked, the name nearly sticking inside my throat.
“He wants you to come and rescue him from the white man’s jail. He says that they are getting ready to hang him… What does that mean?”
“Why doesn’t he use his magic to escape?” I asked, scratching my tortured arms. “That ought to be easy for him, a piece of cake.”
“I don’t know much about cake, but I think his magic has been taken from him.”
“I’ll go with you,” said Otis. “We’ll go in there and kick some ass.”
“Not without us,” growled Goober. “You need us and you know it.”
“I know I broke the neck of their leader,” replied Otis.
There was a long silence before Goober snarled his great fangs and hissed: “Anytime you feel up to a fair fight, you let me know, Prancer.”
Now there was another silence. I looked down to Red for some help to stop this nonsense, but he looked like he was thoroughly enjoying himself.
“Prancer? Just who the hell do you think you are? Oh, let me tell you something, Goober. Do you want to know why that crazy old man named you Goober, hmm? I’ll tell you why, it’s because Goober is the name of the village idiot in a story the old man follows. If I were you, I’d be asking myself why he would have done such a thing.”
There it was, and I could see the hurt in Goober’s bright blue eyes.
“Oh shit,” said Otis. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. I just think that I should go with Huck. I could be his pet deer. I’ll bet lots of people have pet deer. What are they going to say if he shows up with a pack of wolves?”
“Here comes Goober, the village idiot,” Goober answered the question.
“Goob, come on, don’t read too much into that, okay? The old man is as crazy as a bat. He named me after a drunk from the same story.”
“Don’t call me that ever again! I swear I’ll rip your head off. I don’t know what a drunk is, but I am sure it is very nice. Do you know what? I think we have followed you far enough.”
“Goober, don’t do this,” I said, knowing I was far too late.
Goober spun around in a tight circle and squatted. “There,” he growled. “Tell the old man that I left a present for him. Thanks a lot, Otis, you’re an asshole.”
Otis stood there with his mouth hanging open as the wolves vanished into the woods. I looked at Red and I thought I saw the flicker of a smile on his pudgy cheeks. He never said a word.
“Don’t look at me like that, Huck. All I told him was the truth. Maybe it wasn’t the best time to give it to him, but he was gonna find out sometime.”
I was angry; thanks to Otis our strength had been greatly reduced in a si
ngle swoop, before the fighting had even begun. “Thanks a lot,” I said. “Is there anything you’d like to tell me? Come on, I can take it.”
“Don’t,” muttered Red.
“I’m with Red. Don’t push me, Huck. I’ll do this by myself if I have to.”
“You really are an asshole,” I replied.
“Is that what you think of me? Why do you think I’m here? Why do you think any of us are out here? Do you think it’s because of your magnetic personality?”
“I never asked anyone to follow me. You came of your own free will. As far as that goes, I don’t need your help. I can figure this out all by myself. Do you know what? You talk too much.”
“Oh boy,” said Red. “Here we go…”
There was a terrible flash in Otis’ eyes. He circled me with his head down and for a moment, I thought he was going to try and gore me with his mossy rack of antlers. “So, you and the squirrels are gonna bust the old man outta there, huh? Right, they’ll tear you apart. What’s your plan, are your little friends going to nibble those men to death? I told Odd Whitefeather that you couldn’t be trusted, you’re just another empty-headed white man.”
“You son-of-a-bitch,” squealed Red. “Don’t you ever stop?”
“I’m stopping right now,” Otis said. “I’ll see you when I get back with Odd Whitefeather. Don’t bother trying to follow me.”
Now it was our turn to watch him bound away with our mouths open.
Red finally looked up to me and he shook his head. “I warned you.”
I was reeling with both anger and shock, and I felt as if the odds of rescuing my grandfather had just slipped from slim to none. The shooting started a minute later. I wanted to scream, but never found my breath as I sprinted across the pine needles.
I continued to run and I could see the edge of the woods glowing in the hazy sunshine. The smell of gunpowder hung in the air as the shooting continued. I burst through the last of the tall pines and I could feel dozens of eyes fall upon me. The little town was crawling with cavalry soldiers. I doubted that blue work uniforms and white tennis shoes had been invented, as of yet, and with the earrings, I knew that I must have looked very strange to them. Before I could register all of this, my eyes were rewarded with the sight of my grandfather. He was mounted on a horse and galloping straight at me. I heard a shot and felt something whiz past my head. I turned around and cursed my luck. Another shot spun off the dirt at my feet. I began to run as the thundering hoofs of my grandfather’s horse bore down upon me.
Another shot caught the loose fabric of my shirt sleeve. I screamed, knowing that I had just come very close to losing an arm. I suddenly felt a strong hand grab me under that same arm and I was lifted high in the air. The grip was tight enough to leave a purple bruise. I was flung up behind him on the barebacked horse and I grabbed hold of my grandfather’s waist.
I looked back, waiting to see Otis follow us back into the woods. All I could see was a mounted chase by no less than twenty armed riders. “Otis?” I screamed into my grandfather’s ear.
He turned his head to the side. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Otis is gone.”
The tears streamed straight back into my ears, even as the shots continued to ring out from behind us. I couldn’t believe that Otis was gone. I knew that I was very much to blame for that. We entered the woods at full speed where we were met by Red and his brave band of squirrels. The first of our pursuers was less than one hundred feet behind us.
“It is time to fight!” shouted my grandfather as he reared back on the horse. The horse skidded to a halt and we dismounted.
We were a few hundred feet inside the woods, surely, no more than that, and I turned and faced our attackers. They seemed to be streaming from the town. Most were soldiers and they carried lever-action rifles, but some were townspeople and they were armed with whatever was at hand. I could see Red’s team poised just inside the woods; while some were hidden here and there in clusters, most were hanging on the branches of the pines. When the riders crashed into the woods, they were met by a solid wall of red fur.
The squirrels attacked without mercy, falling like hailstones from the trees. The others attacked from beneath and the forest echoed with the sound of terrified horses. Many of the riders were quickly pitched from their mounts, where they were swarmed by dozens of angry squirrels. Still, half a dozen of the soldiers managed to get through the line and they were galloping straight for us. There was no time to watch Red’s fight; we had one of our own to worry about.
My grandfather was once again very old and he was crouched in a fighter’s stance. I could see cuts on his hands and dark blue blotches on his cheeks. His eyes glowed with an anger that I had never seen before. The first of the riders reared up and aimed a pistol in between those eyes. I screamed as he pulled the trigger. There was only a dull thud, followed by another. The rider cursed his weapon as he leapt from his horse. He drew a sword from his scabbard and raised it high in the air. He then ran at my grandfather and screamed.
I watched this in horror as I was quickly surrounded by three riders. Their horses boxed me in like a caged animal. I grabbed the ends of my earrings and prayed, what else could I do? The horses suddenly began to get restless, as if the earth was covered in rattlesnakes. The riders were quickly pitched from their mounts and I fell upon each of them with lightning speed. After throttling the last of the three men, I got to my feet and turned to find myself facing a dozen rifle barrels.
A volley of gunshots sounded and I stood with my right hand raised, as if I could deflect the bullets. Amazingly, that is exactly what was happening. I could feel them veer off course, which only further frustrated my attackers. They jumped from their horses and emptied their rifles from barely ten feet away. None of those shots found its mark. I could hear the roaring of shotguns from the edge of the forest. The sound lit a fire inside me and I took the attack to the soldiers. Like Otis had taught me, I went for the biggest, meanest looking one of the bunch. His bearded face was red with anger and he was screaming something in the deafening explosions of gunfire. There is no doubt that I moved a hundred times faster than any man he had ever met, and I hit him in the throat with a viscous chop that sent him sprawling on his back. Blood gurgled from his mouth and he held his throat in a silent scream.
The others charged me and I did a quick barrel-roll followed by a juke-step. I was there, then, I wasn’t. I caught the nearest of the Blue Coats with a kick to the outside of his knee. There was a sharp crack as bones snapped and the soldier fell to the ground. I then surprised myself as I kicked the other soldier, who was well over six feet tall, and I caught him flush on the jaw. I watched spittle fly from his mouth as his eyes rolled back in his head. I turned and ran toward my grandfather. Dozens of shotgun blasts echoed inside the forest.
We were now facing nearly thirty soldiers who had arrived on foot. They held long swords and they had us surrounded, but stood nearly fifty feet away from us. There was fear in their eyes. “Charge!” shouted one of the men and we were attacked from all angles. As fast as I was, I knew we were about to die. There were just too many of them. I met the charge head on. I wasn’t going down without a fight. My grandfather did the same.
The first of the wolves arrived in a blur of teeth and claws. I nearly shrieked in terror at the sight of it, the soldier who bore the brunt of the attack never had the chance. The wolves were suddenly everywhere at once. The entire pack leapt into the fray and the battle was on. Goober stood next to my grandfather with his teeth bared at the soldiers. I concentrated on the men with guns and continued to deflect their shots the best I could. Still, the sound of painful howling told me that I wasn’t catching them all. I gave up the tactic and began to lunge, kick, punch, claw, and scream at our attackers. Gunpowder smoke hung thick in the air and the forest was full of screaming men and howling wolves. The bloody battle seemed to last an eternity, but it was over a few minutes later.
I cried when I realized that only three of us had surviv
ed the fight. My grandfather, who limped pitifully around the battlefield in a state of shock; Red, who had so much blood on his fur that I thought he would die at any second, and myself. I had survived the fight, seemingly unscathed.
“Oddfather!” squealed Red, gesturing towards me. “Hurry, you need to help him!”
I wiped the tears from my eyes and shook my head, but when I tried to speak, nothing would come out of my mouth. I became suddenly short of breath and I sat down on the bloody pine needles. That is when I noticed the hilt of the sword, and it was buried deep into my chest. Instinctively, I reached up and jerked hard on it, ignoring the pain and the shout of protest from my grandfather. I pulled the sword out and it was followed by an explosion of blood. I tried to scream, but the pain and the shock were too much. My head swooned and I fell to my side as the world went black.
Chapter Twenty-One
Brindle's Odyssey Page 32
