Dennis Yates - Red Mountain

When one of the crewmen was found screaming as he hung suspended above a bed of hot coals for attempting to force his lustful desires on a young native girl, the island exploded with violence. Natives were cut down with machetes or shot by muskets. When Oman tried to rescue his two grandsons and their mother from a burning hut, the crewmen tied him to a tree and made him watch as they slit his belly open and his insides spilled out in a shiny mass.

“Read your future in that,” spat the sailor who’d done the cutting.

At the time Charlie was paddling across the island’s hidden black lagoon after gathering herbs and other plants to use for healing purposes. He smelled smoke and turned around to see what was happening. Great flames were coming from the village and he heard distant screams. He pulled up to shore and ran to see what was happening. When he got to the village he found Oman half alive, trying desperately to wind his intestines around his wrist so he could shove them back into his gaping abdomen.

Oman knew he was dying but insisted that Maynard allow it to happen, even despite the possibility he might still be saved by their ancient practice.

“The ritual to heal me takes too long,” the old man said, pushing Maynard away. “The invaders need to be stopped before all is lost.”

“They won’t survive, Oman. They’re outnumbered, and those who swim for their ship are covered with blood that will be smelled by our brothers the sharks. They will be eaten alive...”

Oman stared at him with fading eyes and a wide smile. He could no longer speak to Maynard through his mouth but that didn’t stop him from communicating in his special way, mind to mind.

“You don’t know this. One of those devils could still escape and return later with hundreds of his kind... You must make certain this won’t happen and do what’s best for the tribe. My family has been taken away from me and there’s nothing left but my sorry bag of bones… That is the reason you were sent to this island. It is why I had the vision. The spirits knew this day would come...”

Oman bent forward and a stream of blood flowed from his mouth. Maynard helped lower him next to the trunk of the tree. The old shaman grabbed his water flask and rinsed his face. His dark skin had turned into a purplish hue.

“Only you can be my successor. You must find others that can be trusted with the knowledge. Take the gifts I’ve taught you and find some giant land where you can begin to reseed.”

Maynard’s face was slicked with tears. “But I have no family of my own.”

“Then you must create one, or find one whose heart is truly open to yours. Now leave me. I must die alone.”

“Please don’t send me away Oman.”

“It is what you must do, my friend. Don’t cry for me. My spirit will return to this island after I make my journey. Perhaps one day a seed of yours will return here to converse with me. But remember one thing before you go, Charlie. Do not allow your soul to house the two devils of hatred and revenge for very long. You must purify as soon as possible. We may need to live in the dark when it is absolutely necessary, but we must always return to the house of light after we’ve completed what was needed.”

Oman’s head fell against his shoulder and he died with his smile still on his face and his eyes turned toward his pupil as if he’d just posed a final riddle. His fist released his intestines and they uncoiled onto the ground like a restless snake.

Maynard wiped the tears from his eyes, kissed his tutor on the forehead and then took off running toward the beach where he could hear men shouting as they struggled to swim past the rough surf to their ship anchored in the bay.

CHAPTER 41

Years of living on the island had turned Charlie into a strong swimmer and it didn’t take him long to catch up with the retreating Englishmen. He carried an ivory blade between his teeth. Thick tendrils of smoke stretched out over the water, providing only brief periods of visibility. As soon as he came close enough behind his prey he’d dive beneath the surface of the foamy water and stroke as fast as he could, then shoot up below and lay the knife across the man’s throat without being seen.

The emerald green lagoon soon blossomed with concentrations of red. Sharks swam to the victims as they sank bleeding to the bottom holding their throats and ate them while they were still conscious. Others were able to make it to the boat and crawl inside, gasping for air. When Charlie finally swam up to the side of the boat he felt his heart sink.

Many more men had made it to the boat than he had anticipated. It would be impossible to kill them all, at least at this point in time. Charlie had no choice but to drop his knife before they saw it. Hands reached down and helped him aboard. The men stared at him suspiciously, and he saw some raise their weapons although it was obvious he was unarmed.

“What do you want here?” asked one of the men Charlie had seen setting fires to the huts. The man wore a patch over one eye.

“I want to go with you. I want to return to the civilized world.”

“So you’re telling me you’re not a heathen?”

“Aye. It was purely a matter of survival. If I had not adopted their ways my head would have been set on the end of a pike.”

“He’s lying!” said another man who looked anxious to cut him down with a long blade. “And even if he convinces you he’s not, he will still bring us bad luck if we take him back with us.”

“Let’s kill him!” cried a voice from the back of the crowd. But the man with the patch on his eye turned and motioned them to quiet down.

“Must I remind you I am the captain of this vessel now?” He turned back to Maynard. “Perhaps you can be of use to us. It appears our best navigator has been killed. If you can guide us through these murderous reefs then I will see to your safe passage.”

Maynard took the man’s hand without hesitation and shook it. “Then we have an accord, sir.”

Two weeks later the vessel sailed into an English port to be restocked with supplies. Those who recognized the ship thought something odd had happened to her crew. Other than the one-eyed captain and his strange American companion, no one else had left the ship.

Some passersby reported seeing strange hooded figures pacing the ship’s decks late at night. Serious attention came when a drunken sailor was found dying from stab wounds he claimed to have received from a hooded figure when he’d boarded the ship without permission. Even more remarkable about the sailor’s story was his insistence that his attacker was not a living man at all but the reanimated corpse of an old friend.

The truth, however, would remain elusive. By the time suspicions of some foul occurrence had reached the point where a local magistrate was awakened to the news, the ship had slipped quietly out of the harbor under a blanket of soupy fog, bound for the American Northwest.

CHAPTER 42

Except for Peggy, the other women and children had been rounded up and locked in the tool shed. It was hot in there, with its corrugated metal blistering to the touch. Marsh could hear their muffled cries for help. He took immense pleasure leading Peggy past them with a rifle barrel ground against her already throbbing skull.

She’ll do anything for me now. Anything she can to see her boy again...

When they came to the barn he opened the door and waved at her to go inside.

“It’s time for our little hayride, darling. Hope you’re up for a good time.”

Crying, Peggy froze in the doorway until he shoved her inside and shut the door behind them. He led her deeper into the barn where he tied her to a post covered with old horseshoes hanging from nails. Before leaving, he squeezed one of her breasts through her shirt. She shuddered and another hot wave of tears flowed from her face and pitted the dirt floor.