D.E. Bartley Scifi sunday's with the Hipriestess

Swifty awoke from a troubled sleep of hazy half-remembered dreams. He tried to calculate the time from the amount of light filtering into the Barracks. He guessed its still early, but he might be wrong. The alcohol could be screwing up his sense of time. He turns over on his side and takes a one-eyed look at the  battery operated clock radio 5:47. It must be cloudy or raining out. He hopes that its raining. Something about the rain has always given him comfort, made him feel secure. On patrol in Vietnam, he had felt almost invisible in the rain, all sounds dampened, making it easier to move silently through the jungle. The squad would be on patrol today…..

Swifty stares, with his left eye, at the clock. He’s keenly aware of the seconds ticking away, knowing the alarm will sound at any time. No way his body can take that loud buzz. He reaches out, and feels along the top of the radio until he finds the switch that disables the alarm, and slides it to the off position.

What day is it? Must be Saturday. He lies still as possible, and listens for the sound of rain, but hears nothing.  

Swifty considers going back to sleep, but he has to take a piss. He quietly rolls off his bunk, he peeks out of the tent, no rain just clouds. When Swifty reaches the dry creek bed, where he usually turns back, he decides to keep going. He does not want to go back to camp. After walking for another half-hour, he comes upon a clearing divided by a barbed-wire fence. The fence runs the length of the clearing, eventually disappearing into the tree line. There’s a sign on the fence that reads: you are outside the perimeter of Camp Evans. In the distance, Swifty can see a narrow river  where he’s never seen a river, he never knew was there. He feels strangely drawn to this mysterious no-name river. So, ignoring the warning sign, he pushes the top strand of wire down, and steps over to the other side.

As he gets closer to the river, Swifty hears the sound of voices, and walks ahead until he sees five young boys kneeling and talking. They’re all wearing the same uniform camouflage pants and T-shirts. Their  faces are partially covered with mud, and they each carry a plastic replica of an M-16.

He overhears enough of their discussion to realize they are planning an attack on another group, who are hiding, waiting on the other side of the river.

Playing army. Did kids still spend Saturdays in the woods playing this old game?  The idea of young boys engaged in imaginary battle fills him with a joy he does not understand. It awakens, within him, some very strong feelings a kind of lightness he hasn’t experienced for many years. Catching a glimpse of something from the past, back when everything seemed to be within reach.

Meanwhile one of the boys looks up and sees Swifty standing on the slope, an old man with a curious expression on his face.

Who is that?, the boy asks his friends. They all look up and fall suddenly silent, staring suspiciously at the stranger.

“Hello men.,”  says Swifty  in an unusually happy mood. I heard your plan. When are you going to start the attack?”

The boys remain silent, intimidated by the presence of an adult.

A crazy idea comes into Swifty’s mind. He runs down the short slope toward the boys, who back up and look at each other, totally confused.

“Would you like me to join your team?”, asks Swifty. “We could all go down the river together, wade across, and come up on the enemy from behind.”

The boys smile at each other. What does this guy want? He seems really serious about the game.

Maybe they should take him up on the offer.

“Charlie  is over there, and he never loses.,” the oldest boy says.

Swifty notices a real fear in the boys eyes, “Ha, it’s just a game,!”

“Is Charlie that bad?”, he asks.

“He fights dirty, and always seems to know where you’re gonna be.” Pipes up the smallest of the boys.

“ESP huh? Well maybe we can give him a little surprise this time.” Swifty is confident, he can outsmart Charlie.
_____

When they reach a spot in the river, where they can see the rocky bottom, Swifty  tells the boys to wait, while he wades across, and has a look around.

As soon as Swifty enters the woods on the other side it begins to rain. The surroundings begin to change dramatically the trees seem more exotic, as if they belong in a tropical climate. They also grow closer together, so that they overlap and form a canopy that blocks out most of the light. The foliage is more lush now  deeper shade of green. What is it about this place that seems so familiar? Everything. The look. The smell. The heavy air that’s almost impossible to take into his lungs. And yet he feels more alive than he has in years adrenalin rushing through his body every muscle taut every nerve on edge.

Then suddenly, he knows where he is….the Hobo woods the goddamn Hobo woods. Viet Cong tunnels everywhere. Here is the land of ancient myths and unbroken solitude the ultimate truth seen only in dreams. And there, directly in front of him, covered in coral vine, sits an ominous stone Buddha surrounded by skulls polished to a shine by the monsoon rains. He feels a horror tempered by a curious joy, and knows the hour he has always waited on, has finally arrived wrapped in a glory that was at once poetic and cruel.

Now that the battle was approaching, all he could think of was the sweet revenge against life ,the people, the conversations, the apathy and emptiness that had always surrounded him. Triumphant at last back here in this remote land where his soul had always been, a place that existed apart from normal, everyday life. He had somehow entered an ancient world beyond boundaries, and for that, he  knew he had to pay the price.

Swifty felt the explosive impact of the bullet against his upper thigh. For a split second, he saw the vacant, soulless eyes, and scarred face of Charlie, who had been waiting patiently these many years for Swifty to show up….Reveille sounds,   Swifty jumps up from his cot, it’s time to wake up and face the real jungle and Charlie, hiding in the tunnels.

Comments are closed.