Brindle's Odyssey

I woke up lying on the lawn where I had been sitting. I blinked hard, trying to clear my head and remember where I was. I turned my head and saw the sun had already dipped behind the trees in the western sky over Spirit Lake. I turned my head in the other direction and found myself staring at a newcomer. He looked very old; like he had just stepped off the set of a John Wayne movie. The old man bore a strong resemblance to an older looking Odd Whitefeather. He was dressed in buckskins and wore his long white hair in a ponytail.

  “Huckleberry, this is my grandfather. He is called Crooked Walker.”

  I didn’t believe him, not at first. The notion that this was his actual grandfather was beyond my thoughts, like winning the lottery. I thought I would humor him, just the same. “Nice to meet you,” I said, offering my hand to the old man. “Thank you for coming out here to help us.”

  He looked at me for a long time as if he were sizing me up. The old man scrunched up his nose and scowled. “Oh no,” said Crooked Walker. “Only my wives can get me to work for free. What do you have that I might like?”

  This totally threw me. I had nothing but the clothes on my back and my pockets were completely empty. The barefooted old man looked down at my Red Wings and smiled.

  I stood there for a moment and tried to reason this out. Was he asking me for my boots? I looked at Odd Whitefeather and he smiled, because he knew that was exactly what was happening. As much as I loved my Red Wings, I knew we needed the help far worse. I gave the old man my boots; socks and all.

  A minute later, Odd Whitefeather nodded his head to his grandfather. “Those are nice boots, you made a good trade.”

  “My feet are thanking young Huckleberry. I will never take these boots off.”

  “Our work here is done,” said Odd Whitefeather.

  I stood there in my bare feet and pointed to the house. “Not so fast,” I said. “We’ve still got to get everyone out of there.”

  “No,” said Odd Whitefeather. “Now it is time to go to the mattresses. I need some sleep. You and Crooked Walker can watch over me. Wake me up if anything happens, you will know it if it does. If nothing happens, I will wake up at first light.”

  I stared in disbelief as Odd Whitefeather stretched out on the lawn and propped his straw hat over his face. I looked over at Crooked Walker and the old guy was smiling at me. The smile sent a shiver down my spine. How well did I know either of these men? What was I doing? How did I get back here?

  “It has been a long time,” said Crooked Walker. He was seated across from me on the grass and was now only a shadow in the growing darkness. I could just see the whites of his eyes and teeth, which had both seemed remarkably white. The shadow began to move his arms and I suddenly found myself seated across a nice little fire from the old man. If Odd Whitefeather noticed the campfire, he never moved to show it. The night had cooled and I scooted a little closer to it, happy for both the heat and the light. I smiled at Crooked Walker to show my appreciation.

  “Watch the fire,” Crooked Walker said, holding his hands just above the tips of the flames. “I will show you something.”

  I did as he asked and saw nothing but sparks and flaming branches. I was just about to say as much when the flames began to twist and change colors. The fire seemed to grow, and maybe it did, but I had become mesmerized by what was taking shape inside those flames. The flames turned from orange to red to blue, and became three dimensional as they did so. A picture was forming.

  “Can you see it?” Crooked Walker asked in his dry voice that sounded like autumn leaves blowing in the breeze. “That is what we are fighting against. It was good of you to wake me from my earthly slumber and bring me out here. I feel pretty good and this is a very powerful spirit. You will need my help to defeat it.”

  I heard what he was saying, even understood what he said, but I was looking into those flames as if I were seeing my first fire. The blues had formed a burning wasteland that seemed to be without end. Tiny green shapes of flame languished in this landscape, very small, but undeniably they were suffering and they were human. I began to hear the fire moan.

  “Maybe you should not sit so close to the fire.”

  I could see hot red shapes that weren’t quite human, torturing the little green people inside the supernatural fire. The moaning grew a little louder. Though the People were very small, I was now able to see their facial features. I imagine this is how an eagle sees the world from half a mile away. The little red gnomes were everywhere, lashing out with whips and swinging molten clubs. Green sparks flew when they made contact.

  “Huckleberry, can you hear me?”

  A red gnome appeared across the terrible burning vista, the largest gnome of the bunch. He continued to move towards me and I could see that this was not a gnome at all. This creature had horns growing out of the side of his head. He seemed to be picking up speed.

  “Get back!”

  I don’t think he needed to tell me that, but he was looking after me which was good to know. The bright red creature was charging across the flaming hell and the moans suddenly became shrieks of terror. I shot back five feet in one quick kick.

  “Further!”

  I could see the eyes of the creature were focused on me. The look was of unabashed hatred and extreme anger. The creature was close enough for me to see that he was much larger than I had originally thought. Thick red muscles rippled across his bare chest and arms. From the waist down he looked like a two-legged Ram. I tried to get up and run, but I was completely frozen with fear. I could hear a mighty roar escape the lungs of the rushing devil, and the shrieks of the little green men rose to an ear-splitting level.

  “Now!” Crooked Walker screamed at me. He then grabbed me by the shoulder and hefted me like a sack of potatoes. I continued to stare at the charging creature inside the flames. The fire was now a solid blazing wall that stretched high in the air. Whatever that thing was, it was trying to leave that place. I was praying that it wouldn’t, as hard as I’d ever prayed about anything. The devil was galloping on his two hind legs and I could hear the clomping of his cloven hoofs. He was very close and he suddenly dove at me like a flying linebacker on a goal-line stand. I felt Crooked Walker grab me by the ear and he twisted my head with enough force to bruise it.

  “Ouch!” I cried, grabbing my swelling ear with both hands. Ears are very sensitive to pain and I was finding that out. I turned, but the fire had shrunk to near coals and the portal, if that is what it truly was, had disappeared the moment I had taken my eyes off of it.

  “Will you guys keep it down?” Odd Whitefeather asked. “I am trying to sleep here.”

  “You nearly killed us all, you have to be more careful with your Medicine,” scolded Crooked Walker in a hoarse whisper. “Let us take a walk.”

  “My ear, you almost tore it off.”

  “He was going to kill you. Don’t invite him here again.”

  Odd Whitefeather waved his arm at us. “Let me sleep, please.”

  I got to my feet and followed Crooked Walker away from the glowing embers and into the shadows. I wondered if what he said was true, was it possible that the creature could have passed into our world? I certainly hoped not. I could still feel the hair on the back of my neck standing at attention and my arms were covered in goose-bumps. My heart was pounding and I tried to control my breathing as we walked across the lawn. After we were a respectable distance from Odd Whitefeather, I turned to Crooked Walker. “I didn’t invite him; I don’t have any Medicine. I am not like you.”

  “Oh, that is a good one,” he said with a snort of laughter. “You are and you will see so for yourself, very soon. We are going to try something else up at the big white house. Right over there,” he said, pointing at the big bay window that overlooked Spirit Lake. The window was as black as coal and the house looked as dead as any cemetery in the middle of the night.

  “That’s okay; we don’t need to try anything. I’ll believe you. I don’t think we should get too close to the house.”

  “C
ome on,” urged Crooked Walker, waving me to cross the final ten feet of lawn and join him at the window.

  I could barely see his face, but I could see that he wasn’t asking me. I moved forward on trembling knees. The house was an undeniable presence, all its own. I had known this from the get-go and I loathed the damn thing. I stood staring into the window, but it was still a great void of blackness.

  “Listen to me this time. Your life depends upon it,” whispered Crooked Walker. “Okay, now I want you to light up that room.”

  Chapter Four