“Oh, no!” Grace said.
Luke turned to see a big man pick up the largest club from the ground. The crowd screamed and cheered. Moon did not look away from the sky. Out of no where Karl bulldogged the man to the ground, but others came and pulled him off. The man stood back in front of Moon with his club, and Karl looked down and turned away. He looked back at Moon one more time, then started for the growing portal. Karl was the enemy, but he clearly didn’t want Moon tortured.
Moon turned toward Karl and yelled, “Stop him!” At the same instant, the big man raised the club like a major league batter.
Luke had to stop Karl—it was the mission. It is what Moon demanded. He eased the bow up before him and drew all his focus on a tiny spot on his target. He had done this thousands of times. It was all primal now, all controlled by the subconscious like an inner autopilot. He bore a hole into that very spot with all of his mind and being. At that very instant, at that very place, there was nothing else in the world but that tiny spot. His breathing was slow, his body solid and unmoving as a stone. He drew the bow back in a slow and fluid motion until his hand found the magic anchor spot on his face. This all happened without him thinking of it or controlling it. All he knew of the world was the spot he was focused on. Focus. Focus. Focus. The arrow drilled into the big Florian’s temple and he collapsed in half swing of his club. The world came back to Luke in a rush. He reached for another arrow, but a Florian came out of nowhere and drove him to the ground. Grace rammed her knife into the man’s brain. Luke knew it was too late now, and Karl would escape.
An explosion rung Luke’s ears as he climbed to his feet. Karl dropped to his knees just before the portal and folded to the ground. His bag dropped from his side and a green glow shown through the folds. Luke whirled to see Adam holding Moon’s pistol. Adam was bleeding from a wound to the head, and a broken spear was lodged in his shoulder.
“Here Luke,” Adam said as he tossed the pistol to Luke.
Luke caught it and turned with it in time to stop two Florians as they ran to Moon.
Adam took Grace’s knife and ran for Moon. He was bloody and battered, but he sprinted all the same. He yelled, “Kayeeya.” He dodged two spears. When he ran to Moon, he realized she wasn’t tied to the cross, but nailed. He turned to fight and protect his princess.
Luke emptied the pistol. He turned for his bow, but saw that Adam had dropped Moon’s bag. He grabbed it up. There was one grenade left. He saw the portal closing. He turned to Grace. “Honey, go for the portal!”
“But what about you? What about Adam and Moon?”
Luke handed Grace the grenade. “You know how this works?”
She quickly examined it. “Yes, I think so.”
“You pull that pin when you start running, and you toss that thing like a softball at those horn blowers and that pedestal of rocks.”
“But Luke—”
“Grace, you have to save Tyler.” Luke turned to see the portal shrinking. “I’m so proud of you.” He gave her a quick smile, and then said, “Go!”
She kissed him quickly on the cheek, snatched the pin out, and raced for the portal. Two Florians jumped in front of her. She kicked one in the groin, and Luke put an arrow in the other. She tossed the grenade and it landed in the middle of the stones. She dove through the portal as it closed and disappeared. The grenade exploded. Orange feathers and chunks blew in all directions. The side of the hill where the portal was located shot electric sparks and arcs and crumbled into a pile of rubble.
The Florians were confused from the blast, but they soon rallied. Luke shot his last arrow and ran to Adam and Moon. He picked up a spear and stood with his back to Adam.
“I’m sorry, Luke,” Moon said.
Luke turned and kissed her. “I’m where I want to be.” He turned back in time to run his spear into an attacker. He knew it was hopeless as the enemy closed in.
The first attacker caught an arrow through his body and dropped to the ground. Two more had a similar problem. Luke searched for the source of the arrows and found Wak’o atop the tallest hut. She was astraddle it and slinging arrows. It was Orion’s bow. Then there was a loud trumpet and the Florians scattered in all directions like roaches. Rockets started flying and exploding, lighting up the village. It was Orion on a mammoth. Yes, there really was something unique about the man.
Moon fainted and Adam held her as Luke carved the wood away from the spikes with his knife. It was a slow process, and he believed it hurt his heart as much as it hurt Moon’s hands. He finally broke the last one free, and Adam laid her on an animal skin that Wak’o had found and brought up. Luke pulled the bloody spikes from her hand. Moon awoke and gritted her teeth, but it could not stop the scream.
Adam retrieved the bag from Karl’s body. He slowly extracted the green orb. “Esva.”
Orion placed Moon’s hands atop of each other and aligned the punctures. He then took the orb from Adam and lowered it to the nail wounds. He squeezed it into the top wound, and Luke could see the glow between her hands as it also went into the other wound.
“Orion, save some of it,” Luke said.
Orion concentrating on his task, didn’t look up, but said. “Pull it out of him.”
Adam and Luke were both kneeling beside Moon, and they stood. Wak’o took Adam’s hand as Luke grabbed hold of the spear stub sticking from Adam’s shoulder.
“I’m going to pull fast,” Luke said.
Adam looked into Wak’o’s eyes and smiled. “Pull.”
Luke jerked so fast that when the spear came free, he hit the ground.
Orion stood with a much smaller orb and placed it into the wound. They watched as it oozed in. After a short time, the orbs came out of Moon’s and Adam’s wounds brown and tired looking. They slowly flew in a circle around them. They began undulating as they picked up speed, faster and faster, until they became one blur. Just as they had at the river’s edge, the brown orbs shot into the sky, and out of sight.
Luke helped Moon to her feet, and she slowly wrapped her arms around his neck. Wak’o did the same to Adam.
Orion made a gesture with his hand and the mammoth came toward him.
Luke surveyed the destruction and death. “Shevay will not stand for this.”
Orion rubbed the great mammoth’s trunk. With his white hair reflecting the firelight, he now appeared to be the wizard he truly was. “I will deal with Shevay. We go way back, and I know his weakness.”
Luke smiled at Orion and nodded.
Moon squeezed Luke. “Looks like you are stuck with me in my world.”
Luke admired her pretty, but exhausted face. “You know, I’ve always dreamed of a world like this.” He kissed her long and slow. It was like a drink of refreshing water after a very long thirst.
“Adam, place Wak’o and Moon on this beast and let’s go home before the savages return,” Orion said.
Luke went over to retrieve his bow and bag. He looked down and saw Grace’s footprints where she had scuffed the ground as she started for the portal. He looked toward the heap of rubble where the portal once was. “Have a good life, Grace…in your world.” He turned toward a smiling Moon. “I intend to have one in mine.”
Chapter 20
Grace landed on her face. It was suddenly daylight. She rolled over and looked back toward the portal. There was only the trail she had last seen when she and Tyler were hiking, no portal or other world. She sat and wrapped her arms around her knees. “Oh, Luke,” she whispered. She just sat there for a long time looking down the trail, not knowing what to do next. It was surreal. “Moon,” she said to no one, “Karl didn’t make it out. We don’t have to worry about that anymore.” She thought of Moon on the cross and began to weep. Grace figured she would never know what happened to her friends and was sure the grenade had closed the portal forever.
Ding! Ding! Ding… The dinging continued about twenty times. She reached in her bag. It was Luke’s phone. There were three bars and the text messages were catching up
. She was really home! She looked at the date—it was exactly a week later from the time she went through the portal. “Yes!” She got to her feet. “Yes!”
A shadow fell over her. It was the eagle. She danced around in a circle for a time. She crammed the phone in her bag and started down the hill. She almost stepped on a box turtle with its orange-spotted neck stretched, surveying the immediate world. Grace pointed back up the hill. “I wouldn’t go that way. You could get lost up there.” She laughed, extended her arms, and turned another circle.
The truck was there right where it was supposed to be, and the key was hidden under the spare tire just as Luke had said it would be. She started the truck and the radio came on. Good News from the Graveyard by Southern Raised filled the cab. Luke loved that Ozark band, she remembered. She looked at her animal skin clothes and laughed. They were going to love it at the sheriff’s office. She pulled the truck onto the road and headed for Tyler.
Just as the truck reached the bottom of the mountain, static buzzed and crackled from the speakers. The truck engine stopped. “What now?” The engine would not start; it would do nothing. A flash reflected in the mirrors. She looked out the window and back toward the mountain. The eagle was still circling. A strange streak of lightning zagged across the clear sky. It was almost blinding. She turned away. “What on earth…”
A red glow oozed from her bag lying on the seat. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself. She slowly reached for the bag and dumped it out. The “X” on the little mammoth was glowing again, but as she picked it up the glow slowly faded and disappeared. “Oh, boy, what next?” She shoved it and the other contents back into the bag. She didn’t want to think about it right now. She just wanted to hurry to Tyler. She tried the key and the truck started. “Thank goodness.” She put the truck in gear, but hesitated. Something compelled her to look back toward the mountain one last time—there was no lightning now, just a normal Ozark mountain, just another normal day. The eagle was gone.
Note from the Author
Thank you for reading Portal to the Forgotten. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed creating it. I’m working on the sequel now. If you would like to be the first to know when it’s ready and when I have something new, go to www.johngschwend.com and sign up for my mailing list. I promise I will never send spam or give away your email address, and you can unsubscribe at any time.
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Best wishes,
John Gschwend
Sample of Chase The Wild Pigeons
Yankee-occupied Helena, Arkansas, May 1863
Darkness crawled across the overgrown graveyard. The headstones were bent and canted from neglect and shoved aside by determined bushes and saplings. A smoky fog had rolled in off the Mississippi River, floating through the cemetery like ghosts.
Joe snuggled in behind a big headstone, knowing the Yankee sergeant would be coming soon; he had learned the soldier’s routine well. Joe looked over his shoulder; his partner was hid behind a square, green-furred headstone. That’s right, Curtis; stay alert. We can’t afford to be caught, have to complete our mission for the cause.
Joe didn’t know why these Yankees had held up here in Helena instead of going on down to Vicksburg where the fighting was. It didn’t matter; they were here, and he was going to do his duty.
He settled in for the wait, had to have patience. He placed his face against the stone, cold and damp. He felt the inscription with his fingers. Curious, he backed off enough to read it. There barely was enough light, but he made out:
Allen Buford
Born 1802 Died 1851
May the angels guard him for eternity.
Joe felt a shiver, thought about looking for the angels.
"Psst!"
Joe started, then whirled. Curtis was pointing. Joe turned. The big Yankee was coming down the path. In the late gloom, his uniform appeared more black than blue. It was him, Sergeant Davis of Iowa.
Joe buried behind the headstone like a tick behind a dog’s ear. Everything was automatic now. They had planned it well. They had practiced the escape. He was ready. He felt an electric screw in his chest and drumming in his ears, but he was ready.
The Yankee drifted down the dark, foggy path like a demon. He was a huge man, the biggest Yankee at Helena. He stopped at the exact place Joe had planned, slowly scanned the area, his Springfield rifle covering the area in a smooth circle, the bayonet on the end like a medieval spear.
Joe tried to melt into the back of the headstone. He knew Curtis was doing the same.
The Yankee finally seemed satisfied he was alone. He dropped a handful of leaves by a stump. There was a convenient chunk of firewood standing about eight inches beside it. The big man leaned his gun against a headstone, then unbuttoned his pants, and they fell to his ankles. He lowered his shining butt down on the stump and firewood—a homemade privy. Soon the music began—he was sputtering and spewing like a clogged flute.
Joe grinned. He had heard the soldiers call it the "Arkansas Quickstep." They had all sorts of afflictions and diseases, living in cramped quarters and not being use to the southern climate.
Curtis giggled behind him.
Sergeant Davis snapped his head in that direction. "Who’s there?"
Joe turned toward Curtis, but his partner was hid well. He’s going to get us shot, Joe thought. He was usually scared of his own shadow—now he’s laughing.
Davis turned back, must have assumed it was the wind. The sputtering began again.
Joe got to his knees. He was going to do this right. This mission would go off perfectly. He squeezed the weapon in his hands.
Davis grunted, and his rear popped like a cork shot out of a bottle.
Curtis snickered.
Davis yelled, "Who the hell is over there? Answer me damn it!" He reached for his musket.
Joe knew it was time. He leaped to his feet, jerked the rope in his hands. The rope snapped tight, catapulted leaves and sticks from the ground, then snatched the chunk of firewood from under Sergeant Davis’s right cheek. Davis’s arms fanned the air for purchase, but found none. His left cheek let go of the stump, and he landed butt-first into his own mess.
Curtis screamed laughter.
Joe struck out for the escape route. "Come on, Curtis!"
Davis tried to stand, slipped, and fell back into the shit. "Who the hell is over there?"
Joe stopped.
"No, Joe, keep going," Curtis said, "we’ve been lucky so far, let’s don’t push it."
Joe grinned. He turned toward the darkness that hid Davis and whistled "Dixie."
Davis replied instantly: "Joseph Taylor! You little runt!"
Joe cut out for home with Davis’s yells fading behind him.
You can purchase Chase The Wild Pigeons at Amazon.com and most online bookstores. The audio version is available at Audible.com, itunes and Amazon.com. You can listen to samples at www.johngschwend.com.
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