Joshua Simon - Forgotten Soldiers

In all my thoughts of how this day would turn out, this had never been one of the scenarios to cross my mind. My eyes moved from his sword to his face. No one I recognized. Too young, and the thin beard he wore looked ridiculous.

“That’s far enough,” he told me, voice purposefully altered in a way that made it seem as though he tried to hide his unease. “State your business.”

By that point I had recovered from my own initial surprise. “My business? I should ask you the same. I know I’ve been gone for some time, but I never thought I’d see the day when a man has a sword drawn on him on his own property. I’m not sure who you are or why you’re standing in the doorway to my house like that but-.”

“Ezer, what’s going on?” asked a soft voice from inside.

My heart raced. “Lasha? It’s Tyrus. I-” I said stepping forward.

“Stop right there!” Ezer shouted. He pointed his sword at me. A woman appeared just behind him. She looked to be about the same age as Ezer and bore no resemblance to my Lasha.

I stopped, blinking. “What in the name of Molak is going on? Where is my family? Lasha? Myra? Zadok?” I called out their names.

Ezer pushed his wife back inside. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, mister. I ain’t ever heard of any of them people. We just moved into town a month ago and bought this property from the bank.”

I felt nauseous. “What do you mean you bought it from the bank? I had no mortgage. It’s been in my family since my grandfather was alive. I own it outright.”

He shrugged. “Maybe you did at one time. But now I do. You got an issue with that, then you take it up with the mayor. This place had been abandoned for a while. Those people you’re looking for are probably long gone.”

I shook my head, rubbing my brow with an open hand in confusion. “No, this isn’t right. None of this makes sense.”

I couldn’t accept it and dropped my bag.

Ezer grit his teeth. “Mister, you come closer and I’ll kill you. I heard about what you soldiers did in the war. I won’t let you do that to my wife.”

Red flashed in front of my eyes. I charged forward. Ezer reared back for a massive swing. The move left his torso wide open. Had I actually drawn my sword, I could have opened him up. Lucky for him I hadn’t.

I ducked under the sweeping blade as it thudded into a post on the porch, one that still bore the carved initials of my grandfather’s name. My fist connected with Ezer’s torso. A gust of air left his lungs. I didn’t let up, not on someone that big. I connected two more times to the stomach before finishing him off with a blow to the jaw. He fell hard to the wooden planks. I stepped over his unconscious body and entered my home.

With my heart racing, I breathed deeply. That did little to improve my demeanor. Gone was the smell of Lasha’s bath soap. The smell of freshly picked roses on a side table replaced it.

Lasha hated roses.

“You try to touch me and I’ll kill you. I swear it,” said the woman sobbing in the back left corner of the kitchen. She held a cleaver.

I ignored her as I went quickly through each of the three rooms, looking for some sign of my family. Defeated, I stormed out, stepping over Ezer who was starting to come around. I threw his sword out into the yard before picking up my sack. I headed toward the barn to ease my worry I had that maybe my family was being held captive there.

Just like the house, I found no trace of them.

I glanced over one last time to the porch as Ezer’s woman helped him to his feet. He leaned on one of the posts with one hand while holding his stomach with the other. A part of me felt bad for hurting him since it seemed he had been telling me the truth. However, another part of me didn’t care who I hurt. I needed answers and Ezer didn’t appear to have them.

Adjusting the bag on my back, I started back toward town. I’d find someone there with answers to what was going on or I’d tear each one of those new buildings down trying.

During my walk back to town I tried to find a word that might describe what I was going through. Confused? Baffled? Worried? Angry? None of them worked. They were all too limiting. Too small. None encapsulated everything I was experiencing.

Hundreds of thoughts ran through my head, but I couldn’t focus on any of them. I knew that birds probably chirped and breezes rustled leaves in the trees, yet I heard nothing and felt less. The smell of familiar fields no longer tickled the inside of my nose. My legs moved on their own accord.

I made it back to the curve in the road near the small hill and tall oaks before my head cleared. I stopped in the middle of the road, unsettled. I was alone for the first time in years, caught in a place I had hoped would bring me joy. It hadn’t brought me anything yet but more pain.

Denu Creek felt as foreign to me as Genesha once did.

A growing sense of unease crawled up my spine. Now was not the time to grow careless-regardless of how my life had just been turned upside down. I needed to think.

Taking a deep breath, I decided quickly that my gut reaction to return to town was still the best strategy. I needed to find someone, perhaps Nason, who could tell me what happened, why Lasha had abandoned our home, and most importantly where she and the kids had gone.

The chilly reception I had received going through town worried me. Getting the information I sought might be harder than just asking a few simple questions of the first person I came across. Creativity in my approach might be just as crucial to my success as caution.

I cursed myself for coming home with blinders on. I should have been better prepared for something like this, regardless of how remote the possibility had seemed.

I’m not sure how long I stood in the road beating myself up, but eventually I came out of it when a memory of Lasha’s smiling face came to mind. It seemed like she stood in front of me. I swore I even heard the pattering of tiny feet running through the house as the kids played. I closed my eyes, and my hands in determination. I’d get the answers I needed.

My eyes opened as the footsteps grew louder. That had not been part of my imagination. Someone was running on the dirt road up the other side of the hill. I picked up my bag and ran off into the nearby oaks. I hid behind the tree closest to the road with sword drawn. I heard only one set of footsteps, but my heart raced as though there were ten. Who’d be coming this way, at this time of day, and in such a hurry?

Had the town sent someone after me to find out my identity?

A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth as the irony of my situation struck me. I was set to ambush someone from the spot that I spent half my life worrying I’d be ambushed from.

The footsteps closed. I nearly jumped in front of their path until something about their sound gave me pause.

A boy zipped past me. I let him go since he wasn’t a threat. Turning my ear back to the road, I listened for others following in his wake but heard nothing. My muscles relaxed.

I flicked my eyes back to the boy who had stopped just up ahead. He bent over and huffed for air. Sure of no immediate danger, I examined him from the shadows. He looked like he was maybe twelve. He was certainly poor. He wore no shoes despite the cool weather, feet black with dirt. Both his trousers and shirt had holes in them. He straightened and looked toward the farm I once called home. I made note of the black, curly hair on his head and the darker tone of his skin.

A note of familiarity struck me. Could it be him?

“It’s not there,” I heard him whisper, voice sullen. His hands balled into fists. He spoke again through clenched teeth. “She was right. I swore it would be there.”