Roman Cesaro - Fallen Into Darkness

The mayor opened the plastic bag to remove the envelope. He slid a letter opener, shaped like a sword, across the seal, removed the letter, and began to read it. He tilted it to the dim light as his eyes peered down his nose through the reading glasses. Robert noticed the mayor’s hands begin to shake as his face contorted into a furious expression. The mayor stood up angrily. “What nonsense is this!” yelled the mayor, as his fist hit the table. The chief suddenly straightened up and put his hand on his pistol. “You are demanding the unconditional surrender of my town?” screamed the mayor. As he yelled, he held the letter up toward them.

Robert was close enough to see the letter in the dim light. It was not the letter from the general. Robert instantly got a sinking feeling in his stomach when he realized what had just happened. Sergeant Haber had switched letters to set them up, as if stealing their raft and supplies was not enough.

“Hold on… just wait a minute—” pleaded Robert, before the mayor abruptly cut him off.

“Bullshit!” yelled the mayor.

“That’s not the letter we were supposed to deliver.”

“Haber did this?” asked Kyle, speaking in an angry tone.

Robert nodded his head at Kyle, then spoke directly to the mayor again. “Just calm down—” Robert tried to plead before he was cut off once more by the mayor.

The mayor furiously wadded the letter into a ball and threw it at the men. “Arrest them!” he roared.

The chief drew his pistol and fanned it back and forth at the three men. “Put your hands on your heads and interlock your fingers,” commanded the chief. He stepped closer to the men. “Turn around and face the wall.”

“You ever hear of frontier justice?” asked the mayor sarcastically. “You’re about to get some.”

The three men faced the wall and Robert noticed that the large glossy screen of the television on the wall was reflecting the images of the mayor and chief of police standing behind them. The chief was moving toward the closest man, which was Kyle, and Robert was directly next to him, in the middle. Out of the corner of his eye, Robert watched the image of the chief’s reflection, on the flat-screen. As the chief got closer to Kyle, he placed the pistol in his holster and removed a set of dull chrome handcuffs. Robert jumped on the chief’s back as he reached for Kyle’s wrists with the handcuffs. Robert wrapped his right arm around the chief’s neck, wiggled his forearm under the chief’s chin, and pulled it back and up to choke him. The chief flailed his arms frantically at Robert and he flung the handcuffs backward, hitting Robert several times.

Kyle desperately grabbed the pistol from the struggling man’s holster and leveled it at the mayor.

As the pressure from Robert’s forearm increased on his trachea, the chief let the handcuffs slip from his fingers and desperately clawed at Robert’s forearm. Robert pulled his arm violently backward and, as he pressed harder on the chief’s carotid artery, the chief dropped to his knees and then fell backward, unconscious, on top of Robert. Robert pushed the limp body off him and stood up, quickly handcuffing the chief’s wrists together. Robert picked up another pair of handcuffs, and stood to face the mayor.

“You ever hear of frontier justice?” asked Kyle, parroting the mayor’s sarcastic statement.

“Just shoot me, you bastard!” said the mayor, holding the letter opener like a knife and pointing it at Kyle.

Robert motioned to Kyle to lower the pistol. “I have a better idea,” said Robert, as he tossed the handcuffs on the table toward the mayor. “Handcuff yourself to this table and we’ll be happy to be on our way.”

The mayor angrily threw the letter opener down, then handcuffed his wrist to the leg of the large table, which was secured to the floor.

“For the record, that letter is a fake. We were set up. If anyone from the Air Force base comes this way, show them that letter and tell them Sergeant Haber wrote it. Let them know that he deserted when he left the base. The general just wanted to have an alliance with the surrounding communities. He would supply men to work the fields and provide protection for a share of the food. That’s it.”

The mayor remained mute, but his anger was obvious.

“I get it. We’re not welcome here,” said Robert. “Like I said, we are happy to leave. But we’ll be taking the pistol. I think you understand.” Robert bent over and grabbed the spare magazine for their new pistol from the chief’s belt. He handed it to Kyle and told him to keep the pistol.

Before they left, Robert, with squinting eyes, quickly scanned the dimly lit room for anything they could use on the long journey home. The opposite wall was covered with a mural of the local landscape. Next to the wall was a stuffed bobcat lunging at a stuffed pheasant. There was also a deer head and a trout mounted on the wall. Robert walked over to the pheasant and removed several of the large feathers to use as fletching for the river-cane arrows. As he walked back toward the door to leave the room, he held up the feathers for the mayor to see, and said, “Just a little something for my troubles.” The mayor cursed at them as they walked away down the corridor.

“We’re lucky no one else is here,” said Richard, as he nervously scanned the area.

Robert rubbed the lump on his head from the chief’s handcuffs. “You’re right. We need to leave immediately, and move way downstream before we set up camp.”

The men walked toward the gray light coming through the glass doors at the end of the corridor. The building appeared to be devoid of other people, and eerily silent. Near the exit, Richard noticed a room with an open door and commented that it looked like an employee lounge and he wanted to check it out. He opened the cabinets and gave a verbal inventory of the items he saw.

“Paper plates, cups, spoons, pepper, more plates… nice… a case of instant noodles,” Richard said, as he held a box of noodles toward his companions.

Robert and Kyle went into the room and looked around.

“I don’t see any more food,” said Kyle, with a sullen tone.

Robert grabbed a box of trash bags and removed one. He put the eating utensils in the bag with a bottle of dish soap and vegetable oil. He said they could use the vegetable oil to cook with and provide some fat calories. Robert also wanted to use the oil to rub on the bows he was making. The oil would make them waterproof, allowing him to finish the bows. Robert carried the trash bag over his shoulder as they left the building. They did not see anyone on the way back to the rafts.

The men wasted no time in getting the rafts back to the riverbank. Robert reminded Kyle to engage the pistol’s safety. They pushed away from the bank and floated downstream, staying on the opposite side of the river.

After several miles, the rain stopped and the gray clouds began to dissipate, but the current remained swift. When they came to a section of riverbank with plenty of driftwood, they got out of the rafts, pulled them out of the water, and carried them to the nearest bushes to conceal them.

Kyle went directly to set lines for catfish as Richard began to gather wood for the fire. Robert positioned the nearly finished bows and river cane by the fire. He wanted to finish the bows by tomorrow so they could begin hunting. The food supply was getting really low. As he sat by the fire, Robert felt the lump on his head from being hit with handcuffs and looked at the deep scratches on his forearms from struggling with the chief. Sergeant Haber had taken the first-aid kit when he stole Robert’s raft. Robert knew that their situation provided the perfect conditions for an infection. An infection now could be fatal. He also knew he had to eat to maintain his health. As soon as he placed the bows near the fire to finish drying the wood, he began exploring the area for food to scavenge. He returned to camp with nothing but hunger. This meant they would have to eat more of their rations and hope for fish by morning. Supper was some bread that was beginning to go stale, and instant soup in a cup.