The War Summer’s Soul Warrior
The Blond Man
Adekagagwaa started running to the foothills but didn’t make it one step. The ghosts were here. There was maybe a couple thousand.
Adekagagwaa was mortified.
“Did you really think you could escape without your gift?”
“What do you really think happened to the rest of the Native American tribes?”
“We’ll take you one by one ...”
A different, strangled cry wailed above the others. “I can’t take it anymore! Take ’em all! Take them all in one blow!”
“To the Real World?”
Every ghost shouted hysterically. “To the Real World!”
Women’s screams were the only thing heard before Adekagagwaa and his entire tribe was swathed in darkness.
~~~~~
Adekagagwaa’s head was pounding as he sat up. He noticed he was neither the first one awake nor the least hysterical. He felt like he had fallen a thousand feet onto solid stone—shattered, broken and sore.
It turns out he had.
He took an ambling step—nothing broken—towards wherever his balance shifted to. Adekagagwaa came face-to-face with an underground waterfall. His curiosity got the best of him, and he glided through the thin sheet of cool water. In the short seconds Adekagagwaa was under, the throbbing of his head ceased a little. There was nothing special on the other side of the blue-white water. There was just a long sheet of obsidian, a volcanic black rock, polished by the running water.
The rock was so polished that Adekagagwaa could see his reflection. And what he saw horrified him.
He had the mark the ghosts had—the red moon, smack dab in the middle of his forehead. He screamed.
He bolted from the obsidian, through the waterfall and out into the cavern he woke up in. Most of his tribe was there, and by the way Adekagagwaa was screaming, he was drawing attention. Women were the first to look up, catty reflexes showing. When they saw Adekagagwaa clutching his forehead, covering the tattoo with his hands, they touched their foreheads. They screamed too.
Soon, there was mass chaos. Everyone was running around the cavern. The stone walls seemed to push in, feigning claustrophobia. The tribe’s yells of anger and terror reverberated off the cavern’s tall walls.
A tall, white, elegant blond man entered through a dark crevasse. All noise ceased to exist—except for the echoes bouncing around the damp, stone room. Even they seemed to fade quickly.
The man had the red moon tattoo too. His artful eyes flashed over the twenty or so Native Americans. “Does anyone know what I am?” he paused. “Correction: what we are?”
His eyes fell upon a small girl. She only had to be seven or so. The blond man’s icy blue eyes stared her in the face, but she did not shake—she stared back. Adekagagwaa felt a rush of pride for the girl. Girl, girl ... Koda!
Adekagagwaa searched the crowd for Koda, but she wasn’t there. Damn, fast girl, Adekagagwaa thought. She better be in the mountains, far from these psychos.
The mystery man unbent from his crouch. “She does.”
Many pairs of eyes settled on the young girl. She glared at them. Adekagagwaa could practically hear her thoughts. Quit staring at me! I’m not the only one who knows!
“Oh, and she’s not the only one who knows either.” Blondie’s eyes flashed at Adekagagwaa and the girl. “Look around at all the children of your tribe. Look at yourselves; your distant memories.”
Eyes were removed from the girl and restless shifting ensued.
“Surely you remember? It was the haunt of every Native American’s childhood.” The white man smirked until Koda ran into the room and taunted evilly:
“I know what you are!”
Dearest sister, you are so stupid sometimes.
Adekagagwaa was mortified.
“Did you really think you could escape without your gift?”
“What do you really think happened to the rest of the Native American tribes?”
“We’ll take you one by one ...”
A different, strangled cry wailed above the others. “I can’t take it anymore! Take ’em all! Take them all in one blow!”
“To the Real World?”
Every ghost shouted hysterically. “To the Real World!”
Women’s screams were the only thing heard before Adekagagwaa and his entire tribe was swathed in darkness.
~~~~~
Adekagagwaa’s head was pounding as he sat up. He noticed he was neither the first one awake nor the least hysterical. He felt like he had fallen a thousand feet onto solid stone—shattered, broken and sore.
It turns out he had.
He took an ambling step—nothing broken—towards wherever his balance shifted to. Adekagagwaa came face-to-face with an underground waterfall. His curiosity got the best of him, and he glided through the thin sheet of cool water. In the short seconds Adekagagwaa was under, the throbbing of his head ceased a little. There was nothing special on the other side of the blue-white water. There was just a long sheet of obsidian, a volcanic black rock, polished by the running water.
The rock was so polished that Adekagagwaa could see his reflection. And what he saw horrified him.
He had the mark the ghosts had—the red moon, smack dab in the middle of his forehead. He screamed.
He bolted from the obsidian, through the waterfall and out into the cavern he woke up in. Most of his tribe was there, and by the way Adekagagwaa was screaming, he was drawing attention. Women were the first to look up, catty reflexes showing. When they saw Adekagagwaa clutching his forehead, covering the tattoo with his hands, they touched their foreheads. They screamed too.
Soon, there was mass chaos. Everyone was running around the cavern. The stone walls seemed to push in, feigning claustrophobia. The tribe’s yells of anger and terror reverberated off the cavern’s tall walls.
A tall, white, elegant blond man entered through a dark crevasse. All noise ceased to exist—except for the echoes bouncing around the damp, stone room. Even they seemed to fade quickly.
The man had the red moon tattoo too. His artful eyes flashed over the twenty or so Native Americans. “Does anyone know what I am?” he paused. “Correction: what we are?”
His eyes fell upon a small girl. She only had to be seven or so. The blond man’s icy blue eyes stared her in the face, but she did not shake—she stared back. Adekagagwaa felt a rush of pride for the girl. Girl, girl ... Koda!
Adekagagwaa searched the crowd for Koda, but she wasn’t there. Damn, fast girl, Adekagagwaa thought. She better be in the mountains, far from these psychos.
The mystery man unbent from his crouch. “She does.”
Many pairs of eyes settled on the young girl. She glared at them. Adekagagwaa could practically hear her thoughts. Quit staring at me! I’m not the only one who knows!
“Oh, and she’s not the only one who knows either.” Blondie’s eyes flashed at Adekagagwaa and the girl. “Look around at all the children of your tribe. Look at yourselves; your distant memories.”
Eyes were removed from the girl and restless shifting ensued.
“Surely you remember? It was the haunt of every Native American’s childhood.” The white man smirked until Koda ran into the room and taunted evilly:
“I know what you are!”
Dearest sister, you are so stupid sometimes.
♠ ♠ ♠
© Spirited.Zoe