Chapter 0ne
Jack stood on the edge of the Little Pee Dee River awestruck by nature’s beauty. The dark black water gently flowed past him heading to the great Atlantic Ocean. On the opposite side of the river tall spruce, pine, and oak trees stood like a majestic army. The fifteen year old ran his hand along the smooth molding of his dad’s bass boat in anticipation of the coming ride. He was finally calming down after a ferocious fight with his sister Mary over Jack using the computer too much. His black haired seventeen year old sister had remained home with his mother Fran. This camping trip was going to be just what the young man needed to get his mind off his aggravating older sister, frustrating football coach, and slumping grades in school.
“Back off Jack,” His dad, Robert, called from the driver’s seat of the black four by four King Cab. Jack nodded and moved to the boat ramp.
Jack watched the white boat trailer disappear under the dark water until the boat started to float. His father put the truck in park, cranked the boat and backed the craft into the river. He guided the boat to the dock and tied the mooring line off then went to park the truck. The wooden ramp echoed each step Jack made as he raced to the place where the boat waited for the trip. Jack stepped in and took his seat at the front of the boat while his dad hurriedly walked back.
Jack looked up at the clear blue Carolina sky and smiled as a couple of ducks flew past. The air was crisp and cool for a late September afternoon. He rubbed his hands on his blue jeans then reached down to do a final check of their equipment. Were the fishing rods there? Check. Was the tackle box there? Yes. Tent? Check. Sleeping bags? He lifted up the tent and confirmed they were there. The cooler was right between his seat and his dad’s. Jack reached in, fished through the ice for a can of Pepsi, and pulled it out. He wiped his hand on his plaid cotton shirt and sipped his beverage as his father stepped into the boat.
“Are you ready to go son?” His dad asked. Jack’s dad stepped into the boat having parked the truck and trailer.
“Yes sir,” Jack answered. Jack’s father smiled at his son and untied the boat from the dock. As the vehicle drifted into the middle of the river Jack,’s dad walked back to his seat and sat at the driver’s counsel.
Robert turned the key, and the large Honda 350 engine once again roared to life. In a moment, the Galvent’s Ferry landing was far behind them as they headed down river. Jack felt like he was flying while the boat skipped across the water towards their destination. They were heading to an island three miles down stream that was suppose to have been the hideout of Francis Marion during the Revolutionary War.
The flat swampland banking the river turned into tall red clay clefts that towered above the purple bass boat as Robert guided the vehicle through the hazards of the river. He would slow down and point out to Jack the unseen sandbars and hidden trees toppled by past thunderstorms, termites, or age.
“You can see the dangerous spots because the water turns lighter, or the ripples change direction,” Robert taught his son. “It’s kind of like life. If you are careful you can see the warning signs of trouble even if you can’t see the danger itself.”
Jack looked back at his dad and smiled. His father’s gray hair use to be black like Jack’s, but a hard life working at the local paper mill had turned it gray. His father had started out unloading trucks in the shipyard, but now he was the safety supervisor. Robert Woodle was a very intellegent man. He often told his son that he learned his best lessons in life through experience rather than books, but better book knowledge might have helped him go through better experiences. Robert strove to in steal in Jack and his sister Mary a love for God, family, and education. Their mother was a small blonde hair blue eyed woman who faithfully stood by her husband as a homemaker.
The boat jerked forward and Jack caught himself from falling onto the floor. He looked up at his father who smiled wirily. “Sorry son, I think that was a log.” The engine shook as Robert eased off the throttle. Jack felt the log sliding under the hull of the boat. It scraped along reminding Jack of fingernails on a chalkboard.
The hydraulic lift hummed softly as Jack’s dad pushed the button that would lift the motor out of the water. The boat dipped down into the river as the log passed under, and Jack’s dad returned the motor to the running position. Jack took a long sip of his drink and handed his dad one. Robert popped the top and drank the liquid before restarting the engine and continuing the trip.
The rest of the boat ride went smoothly, and the hundred-yard long island came into view after the travelers rounded a bend in the river. Jack’s dad steered the boat onto a sandy beach and the two disembarked the craft. They explored the island for just a few moments as the sun began to sink low. A recent storm had made the terrain a little more difficult to navigate because of fallen oak, maple, and pine trees. Thorn bushes grabbed at Jack’s blue jeans and shirt as he followed his father through to higher ground. The two found their campsite twenty yards in towards the center of the island and they started getting their equipment off the boat.
A few moments later, all of the camping supplies were in place and Jack busied himself setting up the tent. While his dad returned to secure the boat for the night, Jack put the support polls together, ran them through the nylon housings and lifted the four-man tent into place. He then placed their chairs by the future home of the campfire. His father returned carrying his weather alert radio, forty-five caliber handgun and the backpack that kept their dry foods.
“Good job son,” Robert said as he tied a rope around the nap sack and looped it over a tree limb. He lifted the nap sack into the air where it was level with his face then tied it off to a root sticking up out of the dark gray earth. Jack pushed the cooler near the tent entrance.
“Did you move all the stubble from the ground before you sat the tent up?” His dad asked as he handed Jack the sleeping bags.
“Come on dad,” Jack whined. “This isn’t the first time we’ve been camping.” Jack put the sleeping bags in side the tent and unrolled them. His dad sat the weather alert radio on a log then put his hand on his son’s shoulder.
“You’re right. I don’t think I could have done a better job when I was your age.” Robert said. “Let’s go get the fire wood.”
The sun was just about gone as Jack and his father finished gathering twigs, pinecones, and limbs to make their campfire. His father placed the twigs on the ground, pine straw, and a few of the pinecones in a pile then took two pieces of flint from his pocket.
“Why don’t you just use your lighter dad,” Jack asked as his father knelt and struck the stones together.
“Well son,” Robert started as he struck the stones again. “Conveyance is not always the best way. It’s good to have a couple of reliable alternatives.” As if to prove his point, the next strike of the stones together produced a spark that got the twigs smoldering. His father blew on the fire gently and patently added more kindling. Soon there was a roaring campfire. The father and son walked to the beach of the island and went fishing for supper. Forty-five minutes later Jack and his father had two five-pound catfish skinned and frying in a pan on the campfire.
After they finished their dinner of fish, chips, and soda Jack and his dad went down to the river’s edge where they washed out the pan and dishes then returned to camp. Jack’s dad listened to the weather report while Jack read a book by the light of his lantern. His father never let him bring his electronic games or music when they went camping, and Jack had learned to rely on some more archaic means of entertainment.
Jack looked up from his reading. The treetops parted at just the right spot that gave him a clear view of the star field sky. Once again, the beauty of nature awed him. However, it was not long before his problems clouded his mind again.
“Dad, can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” his dad said.
“Why won’t coach let me play? I’ve been doing all the things he ask me to at practice. I know I missed that big pass two weeks ago, but . . .
“Son that miss cost you guys the game.” Robert interrupted. “And you’re only a sophomore. Several seniors on your team are playing for scholarships. Just be patient and support your teammate’s everyway you can.” Jack shrugged off his father’s hand that he placed on his son’s shoulder. Jack stood up and put his book in his backpack.
“Speaking of team work,” his father started. “What happened between you and Mary?”
“She’s impossible dad,” Jack complained. He went into the tent and put on his swim trunks. “She can’t see past ‘Kyle.’ And she keeps picking at me about that game and my grades.”
“Well, now you know how important that was to people.” His dad said sitting back down.
“It’s just one game,” Jack argued. “We’re still three and one.”
“Every game is important son,” His father said getting a drink out the cooler. “And your grades are more important. Remember every action has an equal and opposite reaction. That loss could keep you out of the play-offs. Or failing grades could cost you a scholarship even if you’re a great athlete.”
“Hey dad,” Jack interrupted. He didn’t appreciate his father pointing out his shortcomings. “Can I go swimming?” Jack’s dad scowled.
“I don’t know son,” he started. “It’s pretty cold.”
“Yes sir, but I just wanted to burn a little energy.”
“That water will make you shrivel up,” His dad warned.
Jack ignored the joke.
“This might be the last chance I get to go swimming till next spring,” Jack said.
“All right son,” Robert said. “Just be careful. I will be down in a few minutes to rinse off myself.”
Jack grabbed his towel and lantern and hurried down towards the boat. He placed his lantern on the bow of the boat beside his towel and went to the back. The young man looked at the nighttime sky filled with stars and full moon, trying to push the image of the football slipping through his fingers out of his mind. He stepped onto the side of the boat and jumped into the river.
The cold took his breath away as he hit the water. Jack reached the surface and gasped. He felt numb all over and went back down again to try to get use to the chilly temperature. The current rushed around him. When Jack opened his eyes, he could see that the river had taken him about thirty yards from the boat. He was now in the middle of the river, and he could not touch the bottom.
As he began to swim back, the young man started to get tired and realized the current of the river was much stronger than he had anticipated. The boat was getting further away from him by the second. Jack turned straight towards the island and swam for the bank. It did not take long for him to realize it was a futile effort. He stopped and concentrated on staying afloat.
“Dad!” Jack yelled. “Help!” He called again.
Robert was listening to the final weather report. The announcement told him that a storm in North Carolina would be swelling the river making the fishing difficult. He planned that he and Jack could spend Saturday morning exploring the river some. He cut off the radio in time to hear the faint cry of his son. Robert thought Jack was just calling him to come go swimming. He said, “I’ll be there in a few minutes son! Just stay by the boat!” He went into the tent to put on his swim trunks and flip-flops and headed to the river.
By the time, his dad got to the boat Jack was on the other end of the island still caught in the current of the river. He shook from the chill of the water and wished he had listened to his dad. Suddenly something hit his leg. Jack tried to stand thinking he had come on shallow water. Instead, he felt the water wrap around his legs and pull him under!
Jack struggled with his hands to brake free but spiraled down. He saw the stream of bubbles from his noise and mouth as his lungs started to burn. He closed his mouth and eyes as tight as he could in a desperate attempt to save any air that might be in his lungs. His arms and legs went from numb to limp and the blackness of the river invaded his mind.
Robert reached the boat and called out his son’s name. He dropped his towel, turned the electric lantern sitting on the bow of the boat to flashlight mode, and scanned the riverbank.
“Jack!” he called. He scanned the river but saw nothing. Panic began to fill his mind and he pushed the boat off the beach and jumped in. “Jack!” He felt his worst fears begin to materialize as he started the engine. He knew the rain from that storm was coming and the current would be strong. Robert also knew his son was a strong young man who had a good head on his shoulders. He hoped that he remembered to get out of an undertow you had to swim straight towards the bank when you have reached a smooth spot.
For hours, he drove up and down the river calling his son’s name and searching franticly for him. Finally, he steered the boat back to the island and raced to the tent. He grabbed his cell phone and dialed 911. After he called the rescue team, he called his wife.
“Honey,” he started trying to compose himself. “Call everyone in the church and start praying.” He said softly. “Jack’s missing.”


CHAPTER TWO
Robert’s thirty-eight year old wife Fran had always been a strong anchor for the family. That morning she had been busy cleaning wearing a pink robe and curlers. After her husband told her the news; however, she felt every bit of strength leave her. She sat down in the chair at the kitchen table and began to cry.
“Mom, what’s wrong?” Mary asked. The seventeen-year-old had been in the den watching cartoons and eating cereal when she heard her mom’s cry. The young woman came running to her mother’s aid.
Mary tried to get her mom to control herself and look at her.
Fran looked up at her daughter and shook her head. All she could get out was “My baby!”
“Jack?” Mary asked and felt fear grip her heart. She remembered their fight the day before as she asked, “Mom, what’s wrong? Is he in the hospital? Is he sick?” Mary knelt beside her mother and held her. “Mom, tell me! What’s wrong with Jack?”
Fran tried to control herself. “Your brother went swimming last night without your father,” she sobbed. “Now he’s gone!”
“No!” Mary screamed.
“They're looking for Jack now; your father has called 911 early this morning. He wants us to call the family along with the church people and pray. He told me he just has not found him. He said Jack must have got caught in the current and carried down river.”
“Okay,” Mary said, trying to help her mom focus. “Let’s do what dad said. I will use my cell phone and call grandma and Aunt Sue. You call Pastor Gregg.” Fran nodded and rose from the table to do what she could to help her family. While his family struggled to cope with Jack’s
disappearance; the youth had no idea his troubles were just beginning.
Jack could hold his breath no longer. He felt he was still in the river. Expecting to feel water rushing in through his mouth and nose he accepted that he was about to die. However, when he breathed in, cool morning air filled his lungs forcing out the little bit of river water that had got into them. Jack coughed, opened his eyes and tried to gather himself. He was shivering from the cold and lying on a stony beach. He felt his stomach convulse as he tried to get to his feet. He worked hard not to vomit but could not help himself. All of his supper was soon lying on the ground in front of him. Jack wiped his mouth and tried stand.
He saw the familiar trees and sky but something had happened to the river. It had changed somehow. “Dad,” he called out. Jack looked at the morning sun and figured it must be around seven. He knew his dad would be frantic. He looked up the river and down but saw no sign of his father or the island where they had been camping. How far down the river, had the current carried him? Where was he? The familiar survival lessons his dad had taught him kicked into gear.
“The first thing I’ve got to do is get warm,” Jack said aloud. Dressed only in his swimming trunks he knew that would be a big challenge. He started rubbing his arms and legs in an effort to get the blood flowing. “A fire would be a big help.” The young man repeated the steps he and his father went through the night before and made himself a starter pile for his campfire. With no lighter, he looked for two pieces of flint like the ones he saw his father use.
“Here’s to you dad,” Jack said as he struck the rocks together. It was not long before the fire was roaring and he was sitting by it warming himself. Jack backed off a little as he felt his exposed skin getting too hot. His back and chest were scraped and bleeding from lying on the stony beach. His muscles ached from the cold. “Maybe some Spanish Moss would help,” Jack said standing to his feet. He winced from a cramp in his leg. He looked around and saw some long gray clumps of Spanish moss hanging from trees just at the edge of the swamp. He limped on his injured leg and started gathering the gray, hair-like material that would become his bed. Jack kept as close to the camp fire as he could, because he figured that it would not be long before his dad spotted the smoke and came to pick him up.
He stopped as he went to pluck one last clump of moss off the trees. It looked like something had moved in the shadows of the swamp! Jack was not too concerned because he knew the woods teemed with deer. Then he thought, bears, and bobcats too. He eased back towards his camp watching the forest. Jack had a jumble of emotions running through him. The fire cheered him, and the idea of his soon rescue kept him calm, but the creatures in the swamp made him keep nervously looking at the woods. Suddenly he saw a flash of red!
Was it a fox? He thought. Foxes often carried the dreaded Rabies virus. He knew that if he made noise it would generally run off any curious animals, but rabies infected animals came to noise. “Get out of here!” Jack yelled. He stood up to make himself look like a bigger threat to any four footed predators. He saw it again. It looked like a red jacket standing behind a spruce tree just at the edge of the light. He watched as the shadow figure of a man raised a barrel. He heard the hiss of a fuse and smelt suffer.
“Hey,” Jack called. “Don’t!” He yelled with his hands out in front of him as the gun exploded and the bullet ripped into his campfire. Jack jumped back. “Hey man, cut it out!” He said as another shot wised past his ear. “My dad’s coming soon!” Jack warned as he started backing down the beach. Jack could see more red-jacketed figures heading towards him. “He’s got a forty-five with him!” Jack hollered as bullets flew at him. He started running down the gray graveled beach. Jack was running as fast as his cramping leg would let him when the Red Coats came on the beach. They were a hundred yards behind him, so he could not make out any facial expressions. Suddenly he felt another presence and a hand grabbed his arm and yanked him into the swamp.
“Follow me!” he heard a female voice say. Jack’s rescuer did not offer him a chance to refuse. She raced at brake neck speed through the dark swamp pulling him along. They jumped over fallen logs. Thorns scrapped exposed arms, legs, and chest as the two went through briar bushes and around huge mounds of earth. Jack heard the nylon of his swim trunks rip as they raced through cattail bushes and briars. Their feet sloshed through the murky water of the Pee Dee swamp as they ran to elude their pursuers.
“I think it’s safe!” Jack said breathlessly after several minutes without the sound of a bullet striking a nearby tree. His newfound friend tried to keep running. “I’ve got to take a brake,” Jack begged. “They’re too far back.” He put his hands on his bare knees and breathed deeply. “Thanks,” he said and held out his hand. “I’m Jack.”
“I’m Cappy,” The young girl said. She was as tall as Jack was and had long light brown hair. Her deep blue eyes stared angrily at Jack. “Don’t think me yet.” She warned.
Her appearance shocked Jack. Her hair with broken twigs and leaves in it hid a light-skinned face smudged with mud. She wore a single piece deer skin garment. Her legs and arms looked muscular although covered with mud.
Cappy looked at Jack’s expression questioningly. Then her eyes widened as she saw the red-jacketed pursuers approaching.
“Come on!” She said. Cappy grabbed Jack’s hand and led him deeper into the swamp.
For what seemed like hours, Cappy and Jack evaded the redcoats by hiding in hollowed out tree trunks or behind fallen logs. They would duck under the branches of weeping willows or even take cover in beaver dams.
“What’s going on?” Jack asked as they rested under a tree. “You’re in the River.” Cappy explained. Jack did not understand. “No, we’re in the swamp. In addition, those people are going to get their tails kicked when my dad gets here. They must be some red necks from a civil war reenactment.”
“Jack!” Cappy said forcefully grabbing his face in her hands. “You are not where you were. You are not anywhere or any time near your father! You are caught in the river.” Jack still did not understand what Cappy was saying. She cautiously looked around and rose to her feet. “At last,” she said. “I think they gave up for now. We can go home.” Cappy took Jack’s hand and started walking.
“Where is home?” Jack asked. “Who are you? What’s going on?” Cappy kept walking and smiled at Jack. He thought she had a wild but beautiful look as the broken sunlight revealed her slender athletic frame.
“You are in a place we call the river.” She explained. “I came here when I was five. I do not know how. All I remember was playing with my daddy in some water and I went under then I wound up like you. A lady picked me up and took me home with her, and I’ve been here ever since.”
“How old are you?” Jack asked.
“I don’t really know,” Cappy said. “Fifteen or sixteen I guess. Brian will tell you more when we get home.”
Jack did not see a reason to keep questioning Cappy. He followed her through the swamp until the earth became solid under their feet. Then Cappy led Jack to a clearing where there was a pool of water. She lay down on her stomach and started drinking. Jack watched her for a minute then started drinking too. The water was not Pepsi, but it was refreshing.
Cappy stood up after a minute of drinking. “Okay,” she said. “It’s time to go.” Jack watched her look around one more time then she stepped into the pool of water.
“Where are you going?” Jack asked as she waded out into the pond.
“Home silly,” Cappy said and pointed towards the bottom of the pond.
“Oh,” Jack said and followed her path. He looked down thinking Cappy was starting to freak out on him.
“Follow me,” Cappy said happily, as she waded a few feet further into the pond then dove beneath the surface. Jack watched the ripples and looked back behind him. He saw the shadows of the swamp which surrounding the pool and decided that at least for the moment his best bet was to stay with Cappy.
Jack dove beneath the pond and saw Cappy’s feet disappear into an underground cave a several feet below. He followed her down and caught up as she swam in a tunnel. Pushing himself along, Jack followed Cappy through into an underground cavern. He coughed after he broke the surface of the water, and he breathed in the musky underground air. Cappy pulled herself onto the moss-covered ground and helped Jack up.
“Be careful, it’s slippery as heck.” She cautioned. A single torch lit the dark cavern where the two now stood. Jack ducked to avoid the roots of trees above him. Moss covered the natural underground labyrinth. Jack slipped as he and Cappy started down a long earthen corridor.
“Who is Brian,” Jack asked Cappy.
“My new mom and dad’s name are Brian and Soho.”
A thought suddenly entered Jack’s mind. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.” He started. “I’ve heard stories like this before. A child gets separated from their parents and . . .”
“Wind up being abducted, brainwashed, and abused.” A male voice finished the sentence.
Jack looked up, and saw a tall black man dressed in deer skinned pants and vest. He felt a wave of fear sweep over him as Cappy ran up to him and kissed him on the cheek.
“This is Jack,” She said happily. “He’s new here.”


CHAPTER THREE

Robert, Fran, and Mary held each other sorrowfully as their pastor prayed for them. They were standing in their home after Jack’s funeral. It had been two weeks since Jack disappeared in the Big Pee Dee River and the Forest Ranger told them they were calling off the search. Fran regretted the outburst she had made under the command tent when the officer told them they had to call off the search of the river because they found no sign of her son. After the funeral, friends and family tried to comfort the Woodles.
A news crew from Pee Dee 15 came to do a feature on the tragedy. Now the couple along with who they believed was their only remaining child stood together mourning with their pastor.
“I just can’t believe he’s gone,” Fran said shaking her head after the pastor said “Amen.”
“I should have gone down there with him.” Robert said. “It’s my fault.” He went to his recliner and sat down.
“Yeah, you’re right. It was your entire fault!” Fran said. “What happened to the Safety First rule you always preach? Or swim with a buddy?” She added.
“Jack’s dead mom,” Mary yelled back. “Don’t take it out on dad!” Fran slapped her daughter before she could stop herself.
Mary held her red face and stared angrily at her mom then raced to her room. Robert got up and stopped Fran from running after her.
“She’ll be alright honey. We’ve all got to process this.”
“Oh, go to hell Robert!” Fran screamed. “I’ll never forgive you for letting Jack die!” Fran paused and looked at their pastor then ran out the door. Robert stood silently in the den with his head down. Pastor Gregg walked over and put an arm around his parishioner.
“Robert, I’ll be praying for you and your family.” He promised. “Thank you pastor,” Robert said. He felt like telling him where he could go with his prayers. “I’ll show you out,” he said instead.
Robert watched the pastor get in his BMW and started to close the front door when he saw an old blue Ford pull up the driveway. Robert stepped back onto the porch and watched a Native American get out the driver’s side. He was tall and weathered with long gray hair and carried a black doctor’s bag. He wore a blue jean shirt, pants and tennis shoes.
“You Robert Woodle?” he asked as he came to the foot of the steps.
“Yes sir,” Robert said. “Listen I really don’t care to talk to anyone right now.”
“That your preacher?” the Indian asked motioning behind him.
“Yeah,” Robert answered. “What of it?”
“He’s a good man, but can’t help you or your son now.”
“Look mister. . .” Robert indicated he needed the visitor’s name.
“Blackfoot. Charles Blackfoot.” The unwelcome guest said.
“Mister Blackfoot I and my family really don’t need any visitor’s right now. Maybe you could come some other time.” Robert answered declining the standard handshake.
“Mister Woodle, if you don’t listen to what I have to tell you then there won’t be some other time.”
Robert looked at his visitor for a moment and scowled. There was nothing that a middle aged Indian could tell him that could help his family at a time like this. “Have a good day Mister Blackfoot,” he said and opened the door.
“Mister Woodle, Jack is alive.” The sentence angered and confused Robert. He quickly slammed the door and got in Charles Blackfoot’s face. “Look here Charles! I don’t know what type of game you’re playing, but I want you to get in that truck and get off my property now!”
Charles did not move.
“Give me ten minutes of your time.” He offered. “If I don’t convince you what I’m saying is the truth I’ll never come back here again, and I’ll give you two thousand dollars I really don’t have.”
Robert clenched his fist and glared at the Native American. He then thought about it and the angry, hurting wife and daughter in the house. He would do anything to make them feel better.
“Okay,” He said. “You’ve got ten minutes.” He led Charles Blackfoot to a set of rockers on the front porch and listened to his story.
“Mister Robert, I’m the Shaman for the Pee Dee Tribe of Native American Indians. I believe the reason your son was not found by the Forestry Rescue team is because the river wouldn’t let them.”
“Okay,” Robert started.
“You said I got ten minutes right?” Charles reminded.
“Alright,” Robert conceded.
“What do you know of Frances Marion?” The shaman asked.
“We live in Marion County don’t we?” Robert quipped.
“Right. Well there is an old Pee Dee legend that says the reason he had his fox-like abilities is that a shaman whose family was murdered and raped via the British Redcoats prayed for the Swamp Fox and imparted to him the ability to overcome the troops. Every time the Swamp Fox raided the British the shaman was there praying. Not only was he praying to the Great Spirit for help but other shawmen in other tribes were praying for the British troops to be taken from their lands.”
“So what does that have to do with Jack?” Robert asked.
“Mister Woodle, I believe that the Great Spirit heard the prayers of those shawmen and opened temporal doorways into another realm. From time to time those doorways still open.”
“You’re telling me my son got caught up in a one way trip to hell?” Robert asked. “I don’t believe that,” He stated.
“Not hell, just another dimension.” Charles answered. “I’m not sure it’s one way either. I’ve found that you can do pretty much anything you set your mind too if you’re willing to keep at it.”
“I think you’re ten minutes are up Mister Blackfoot,” Robert said standing up.
“I guess you’re right,” Charles said sadly. “Before I go I want you to look at this.” He held up a green stone with a whole in it.
“That’s pretty,” Robert, quipped. “You don’t have to worry about the money.”
“This stone is a looking stone. The river carved it Mister Robert. Legend says that if you hold it in front of you at the river’s edge on a full moon and call out the thing you want to see most of all in the world it will show it to you.”
“That’s nice,” Robert said. “I don’t plan on being at a river any time soon.”
He tried to hand it to the Indian who had made his way to the bottom step.
“Keep it,” Charles said. “It will show you where your son is.” He walked to his truck and opened the door. “By the way,” he called out. “There’s a full moon tomorrow night.”
Robert watched the Ford drive away and rolled the Looking Stone over in hand. He did not know what type of rock it was. It was about five inches long, green and smooth with an oval shaped hole in it. He started to throw the stone as far as he could then decided against it. It could be a nice reminder of the good times he had with his son. He looked down the road in the direction Charles Blackfoot had gone then went in and shut the door.


CHAPTER FOUR
Even as the weeks passed for Jack’s family in the river mere moments transpired
“Don’t be afraid,” The tall black man said to Jack. He stood at the opening to a large cavern lit by more torches. Behind him, Cappy ran to an Indian woman who hugged her and started cleaning out her hair and rubbing cream on her wounds. Jack turned his attention back to the man who stood before him offering his hand.
“My name is Brian Freeman,” he said. “This is our home.”
Jack stepped into the cave and looked at the dim surroundings. It was simple enough. A fire burned in the center of the cave. Jack saw the walls and floor lined with bear, deer, and raccoon skins.
“My name is Jack,” Jack replied shaking his hand. “Jack Woodle.”
“Welcome Jack,” Brian said.
Jack looked at himself for the first time since his ordeal began. His swim had washed off the blood, mud, and swamp that had clung to him through his flight. New blood seeped from the freshly cleaned wounds on his arms, chest, back and legs. His swimming trunks had large holes in them created from the near missed shots of the Redcoats, thorns, and low hanging branches. His muscles ached from the torturous run, swim, and dehydration.
“I don’t fill so well,” Jack said. He started to fall and Brian caught him.
“Come here and sit down,” Brian offered. He led Jack to a long limestone rock covered with bearskin and let him lie down.
The Native American woman came to him and started tending to his wounds. She held a simple clay bowl with a mixture of some type of Alovira plant and herbs. When she applied them to Jack’s cuts he winced, expecting it to burn, but found it surprisingly soothing. Soho wore the same simple one-piece outfit like Cappy. Her hair was long and black. Her dark eyes seemed full of wisdom but friendly. After covering the wounds on the front of his body she said,
“You need to lie on your stomach.” Jack turned over and she applied the cream to the wounds on his back.
“Give me those,” Soho said pointing to Jack’s swim trunks. He folded the bear rug over himself and complied. She held them up for inspection chuckling at the holes. Mister Freeman went and selected a deerskin from a pile in the corner of the cave and handed them to Soho. While she seamed their new guest his new breeches, Brian talked with Jack.
“Do you understand where you are?” He asked.
“Not really,” Jack admitted.
“It’s kind of hard to explain.” Brian started. “Have you ever heard of a worm hole?”
“That’s off of Star Trek right?” Jack asked.
“Isaac Newton actually came up with the theory.” Brian answered, “I believe the river is a gateway between our reality and this place. It looks like earth, sounds like earth, it even has the same type of plants and animals but it is different.”
“Could it be another time?” Jack offered.
“No,” Brian said. “I thought about that, but it can’t be because someone would have seen signs of our existence. This place is as if someone made a clone of pre America South Carolina and put it in another part of the universe. It would be great if it weren’t for the Redcoats out there.”
“Redcoats,” Jack asked. “You mean the British?”
“Yep,” Brian answered as he sat beside Jack. “I don’t know how, but those guys chasing you and Cappy are British soldiers from the Revolutionary war.”
“Here you go,” Cappy said happily. She had disappeared around a corner in the cave earlier but now stood offering Jack a bowl of soup. The hungry youth took it thankfully and quickly ate the hot meal.
Cappy sat beside Jack as Brian continued to talk about what had happened.
“Somehow the River, allows us to age at a much slower rate. We still grow. There are many ways to be hurt or even killed. However, a natural, time oriented death does not exist. That’s why the Redcoats are still around.”
“How do you like deer soup?” Cappy asked as Jack finished the bowl.
“It’s great.” He said wiping his mouth. Jack had often eat venison he and his father had hunted. The youth yawned unexpectedly. The medicine made by Soho had soothed his wounds, the soup had warmed his insides, and the bear skinned rug warmed his skin. They were close enough to the fire that Jack had almost forgotten about his chilly experience in the swamp.
“How do I get back home?” Jack asked Brian after staring into the fire.
Brian sat beside Jack and spoke softly. “I don’t know if you can.”
Jack looked at Brian, then Cappy, and Soho who worked quietly on his pants. The shadows danced quietly on the cave walls to their own music oblivious to the disheartening statement.
“We’re not alone here Jack.” Brian continued. “The River takes people without partiality. Folks are all over this land that have been here a lot longer than us, who are a lot smarter but just as trapped. They have learned to adapt, and overcome. Many, like me, have started family units.”
Soho turned from her sowing and held up the finished deer pants. “You like,” she asked.
“Yes, thank you.” Jack added. Soho smiled brightly and brought the pants to Jack. “You’ll be like the deer now. You won’t be hurt by the thorn bushes.” Jack slipped the pants on under the bearskin and stood up. He tied the pants close with a leather strap that Soho had provided.
“I’ll fix you a shirt next,” Soho promised and went to the pile of skins. The Indian woman selected what she needed and went to work.
“Most of us live in peace with one another.” Brian stated. “We trade for what we need and share information on the Redcoats.”
“Why haven’t you tried to get along with them?” Jack asked as he took a cup of tea from Cappy. He grimaced slightly as he tasted the pine needle concoction. “Thank you,” He said and sat the wooden cup down.
“You’ll get use to it,” Cappy promised.
“They torture and kill anyone that they catch,” Brian said standing up. “They still think the Revolutionary war is going on. I personally think the whole lot of them is insane.” He explained. “They came here chasing Francis Marion through the swamp. He led them into the swamp where they fell into quicksand. Somehow this place was created and the pits and river became gateways that opened between our world and this one to bring people here. Even after all these centuries, they are still full of hatred. The only thing that has changed is their patrols are increasing. They are finding more of our settlements and killing the inhabitants. At least everyone we’ve found is dead.”
“What do you mean?” Jack asked.
“The children are being taken,” Brian said.
“Why is it always the children?” Jack moaned and sipped his drink.
“We’re pretty much safe here,” Brian said in an attempt to offer hope. “The only other entrance to our cave is up through a hollowed out tree. Later on, I’ll show you around.”
Jack grinned weakly as he sat back down and sipped his drink in an attempt to cover what he was really thinking. He wondered if this was what the rest of his life was going to be, and he wondered what his family was doing now. Little did he know months had passed since he disappeared and his family had fallen apart even as unseen forces worked to bring them to Jack’s side of the River.
Mary stood at the bank of the river crying. It was a cool spring evening. Her boyfriend Kyle had just sped off after she fought off his advances. However, that was not why she was crying. She was weeping because of how bad things had become in her home in the months after her brother’s disappearance.
Her father had started drinking and lost his job. Her mother had moved them to her grandma’s house. Mary could still remember lying in bed hearing their arguments over what had happened to Jack and how it was all Robert’s fault. Her mother could not stop mourning for her son. To Mary, her mother acted as though neither her husband nor daughter mattered any more.
“Fran, we all loved Jack.” Her father pleaded with his wife the night before she left. “You’ve got to move on.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about Robert! You’re the one who’s started drinking! You’re the one who just sits in the recliner in a stupor day after day staring at that rock the Indian gave you! I can’t pay these bills by myself. I can’t control Mary anymore. She’s smoking, going out all night, and I don’t like that Kyle boy she’s been dating! You’re the one who has to move on. I can’t stay with you while you’re like this!”
Mary remembered the sounds of the scuffle that followed. The next day her mother came into her room and announced, they were going to go to grandmas. Her mother gave no explanation and no debate was accepted. Mary had decided to go with Fran because her dad did not even offer to let her stay with him. Out of anger, she stole the rock the Indian gave her father while he slept. Three weeks had passed since they were gone, and her dad still hadn’t called to check on her.
Mary felt in her blue jean’s front pocket for the rock the Indian had given her father. What did he call it? Oh yeah, he said it was called the Looking Stone. Mary held the jade-like rock in her hand. Her father had told her mother and Mary about his encounter with the Indian.
“How could he be so cruel?” Mary’s mother cried. “Jack’s dead!”
“We don’t know for sure,” Robert had offered. “Maybe I can go down to the river’s edge and try it.”
“If Jack were alive God would have told us!” Fran had argued. “He does not need some stupid stone. If you want to believe in that junk fine, but don’t expect me too!” She ended the conversation by storming out the room. Mary rubbed the stone in her hands as she remembered her dad putting the stone on the counter and crying. She had never seen her father cry before and it bothered her greatly. He had always been so strong, so smart. Yet here he was weak and trusting in a rock.
Mary shuttered as a breeze blew her black hair. She tried to close the white blouse she wore and wondered how she was going to explain the missing buttons to her mom. Then she grimaced as she thought her mom would not notice or care anyway. Mary looked at the stone in her hand and held it up to the river. The moonlight caused it to shine as she looked through the hole at the gently flowing water and said; “Looking Stone, I want to see my brother Jack Woodle!”
For several moments, nothing happened. Mary felt stupid as she stood on the boat slip looking through the hole in the stone. Then the space inside the stone started to cloud over. Her hand tingled as she watched an image slowly appear in the hole. Like a silent movie, she saw her brother wrapped in a bearskin asleep by a fire. The image faded as quickly as it appeared.
“Jack!” Mary called wiping the tears from her eyes. “Come back!” She held the stone for several moments without anything happening. “Maybe if I got closer to the water’s edge,” she thought. The tips of her tennis shoes were under water as she called out again “Looking Stone, I want to see my brother Jack Woodle!” The stone started to cloud again when the feeling of her socks getting wet distracted Mary.
“What the. . .” Mary did not get to finish the sentence as she felt wet hand’s grab her ankles. She screamed as she lost her balance and fell backwards on to the boat ramp. Mary tried to scramble up the ramp away from what grabbed at her. Despite the full moon, all she could see was water. “Help,” Mary screamed as she clawed at the muddy cement. When she tried to rise, the water pulled her down. Mary felt her legs forced together, and then her waist and chest became wet, as the river slowly dragged her deeper. Mary hoped to see the lights of Kyle’s truck at the top of the boat ramp, as the water pulled her under. She prayed for the saving touch of her father’s hand as the water covered her head. The only thing Mary could feel as her fingers clawed at the mud was the Looking Stone on the edge of the ramp. A trail created by her fingertips was the only evidence Mary had ever been at the river’s edge, and the water slowly washed them away.


CHAPTER FIVE
“Hey, do you mind?” Jack asked as he woke. Cappy’s arm fell over his face waking him. He was angry because had been dreaming about girls.
“Sorry,” she said sleepily and rolled over. Jack stood up and stretched. The fire had burned down to embers, so he got a couple of limbs from the woodpile and stoked the flames backs to life. As he built the fire, he thought about the rest of the previous evening.
After Soho had made his shirt of beaver’s skin, Brian took the young man on a tour of the cave. Jack saw the kitchen area, which consisted of a part of the cave that held several wooden and clay drinking and eating vessels. A small smoothed out cleft in the rock served as the sink. A fire pit in the center of the floor served the families’ cooking needs. They cooked their food with large clay bowls made by Soho, which rested on iron rods just above the flames.
Jack also saw what Brian called the “Front door.” It was actually a small passage winding up ten or twenty feet where it turned from stone to dirt. A wood bottom covered with earth opened in a hollowed out tree located somewhere in the middle of the swamp.
Brian told Jack that in 1974, his boat overturned and the river became his home. The soldiers caught Brian before he woke up on the beach. They tortured him ruthlessly. After several days, he escaped by waiting until the guards fell asleep and working loose the knots they had tied him with. He tripped over Soho who had fell victim to the river years before and helped her escape as well. The two hid in the British fort called “New England” until they stumbled onto an evacuation tunnel located in a storage shed. The two fled into the swamp and found their home. One day, while picking berries, Soho heard Cappy crying just as the British patrol was coming. They called her Cappy because Soho heard one of the guards calling out “Captain, Captain!”
Throughout the evening Jack brought Brian up to speed on the changes in American history.
“And we have a black President?” Brian said impressed. “Obama you say?” Jack nodded.
“Well if that doesn’t beat all.” Brian said. “I just can’t believe it.” He explained political events to Jack from his time.
They spent the rest of the evening formulating ideas of returning to the present, talking sports, science, and movies. After what seemed like hours, they went to bed.
Jack sat on the stone couch looking at the fire he had just rekindled and his new family. Brian and Soho slept together on one side of the fire while Cappy rested on the other. He thought of his own family and felt a deep emptiness in spite of the appreciation he had for everything his new friends had done for him.
Meanwhile his sister slowly regained consciousness. She coughed up water and shivered uncontrollably. Mary felt as if the water was still dragging her, but now it was carrying her by her shoulders. She opened her eyes and saw the gray gravel of a beach passing beneath her. She heard the crunching sound of boots walking on the gravel and heard her own shoes sliding along. Mary tried to stand but was too weak. The seventeen-year-old realized two men in red and blue uniforms were carrying her. They had muskets and gun powder horns.
“Hey, I’m alright now.” Mary said weakly. She tried to stand but the men’s momentum kept her off balance. Mary tried to struggle free and the soldiers released her. She picked herself up off the beach spitting out gravel and sand. “You didn’t have to drop me,” she whined.
“I am so sorry miss. . .” One of the men said sarcastically. Mary noticed his British accent.
“It’s no problem,” Mary said accepting his outreached hand. She stood up and screamed as she looked into his face.
The skin of the British soldier had long since wrinkled and turned a whitish-gray. It hung from the skeleton and muscles of his body. His eyes had sunk deeply into the sockets; and his lips and gums had receded revealing a permanent evil grin. Mary screamed repeatedly as each of the twelve men she faced had the same ghastly look. She fell down in their midst with her hands over her head as the soldiers laughed. They yanked her up off the ground by her arms and pointed their muskets at her.
“March!” one of the soldiers ordered.
“What?” Mary asked confusedly.
“March you stinking settler!” He repeated and pointed with the barrel of his gun into the swamp.
A Whippoorwill sang in the distance as Mary started trudging through the murky water. She held her blouse closed in an effort to stay warm. She wiped sweat and water from her eyes as the soldiers forced her through the swamp. By the time Mary reached the British soldier’s fort, the sun was high in the blue sky. She watched as a log bridge lowered over a mote and more guards came out and led her inside. The walls of the fort were tall pine and oak tree trunks, which had been debarked and cut to a point. Guards manned strategic positions standing on a catwalk they reached by removable ladders.
“Welcome to Fort New England,” one of the British said.
The guards tied Mary’s hands behind her back as the fort bridge returned to an upright position. Mary felt like she was out of time as she walked through the fort. Soldiers busied themselves cleaning their muskets or uniforms unless they were carrying out daily choirs of cleaning the parade yard. In the shadows, Mary could see what looked like cages. Hands reached out to her and she could hear the groans of the prisoners. In the center of the parade yard, a tall poll stood with a British flag flapping in the breeze. After Mary went through this entire scene, she found herself inside the cabin of the General. Once there, the soldiers forced Mary to sit in an old wooden chair saluted then walked out. The cabin was shrouded in darkness even though it was the middle of the day.
“Are you thirsty Miss?” A raspy voice asked from the shadows.
“Yes,” Mary admitted.
A figure immerged from the shadows of the cabin with a wooden glass of water and held it to Mary’s lips. “My name is General Charles Towen.”
Mary received just enough water to ease her thirst, and then the General put the bamboo cup on his desk.
“What’s your name?” He asked sitting on the desk. Mary could see his dark blue trousers and white military shirt. The shadows covered his face. Mary could only imagine it was as horrible as the other solders.
“Mary Woodle,” she answered.
“How old are you?” He asked.
“Seventeen,” Mary said. “Where am I?”
The figure brandished an old riding whip and held it under Mary’s chin.
“I’ll ask the questions Ms. Woodle,” He said. He ran the leather end of the whip over Mary’s muddied blouse. “What type of clothes are these?” He asked.
Mary explained her attire.
“I’m just wearing blue jeans, blouse and tennis shoes.”
“I see,” The general said.
“You said your brother disappeared a few months ago?” He asked.
“Yes,” Mary said before she realized that she had not.
“Very good,” the General said. “I imagine your arms are hurting you quite a bit Mary.”
“Yes,” Mary admitted. General Towen walked behind Mary, and grabbed her shoulders with strong boney hands. She gasped in pain and tried to look away as he turned her face towards his. His breath stank and his teeth clicked softly as his hissed:
“Make no mistake about it Ms. Woodle; you are a captive of the British Army. I am the General of that Army. Everything I tell you to do you will do understood?” Mary nodded. “Every question I ask you will answer honestly and quickly, yes? Your job from this point on is to convince me you are telling me the truth,” As if to drive home the point, he pushed down on Mary’s aching shoulders until she gasped again. “Now,” He said releasing her and going back to the desk. “Tell me everything you know about the Swamp Fox.” He returned to the front of his desk, crossed his legs and waited. Mary watched him patting the riding whip in his hand.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Mary said fearfully. The General took his whip and brought it down across Mary’s legs. “Don’t play games with me Ms. Woodle!” He screamed. Mary felt her thighs throbbing in pain. “I don’t know any Swamp Fox. . .” She began to cry.
“Liar,” Charles screamed again. The whip came across Mary’s legs once more and she bounced in the chair in pain.
“Please,” she begged. “All I know is he fought in the Revolutionary war.”
The General raised his whip as if to strike her again then seemed to change his mind. Mary cried as he patted her head.
“Very good,” He said as Mary cried. “What else?”
Mary tried to remember her history lessons. “I know he was a hero, who lived in Marion County.” She tried to come up with information that would be more useful. The General acted as if he wasn’t impressed.
“Look Mister that was hundreds of years ago!” She pleaded as he brought the whip down on her legs again. Mary screamed in pain. “Please stop!” She begged. “I’ll do anything.”
The General was unconcerned by her suffering.
“I’ve overseen the interrogation of thousands of prisoners,” he bragged. “I do not need you to do anything.” The general knelt in front of Mary and forced her to look at him. “By the time I am through with you I will know all you know.” Mary screamed as he ordered his soldiers in. They roughly yanked her out of her seat, dragged her to the back wall. They next tied her to metal rings in the wall of the cabin and ripped off the back of her blouse. One soldier came in with a single twelve-foot leather strap and began to whip the young girl relentlessly. After several lashes, the General ordered his men out and whispered in Mary’s ear:
“It’s awful isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she whimpered.
“Your arms ache and your back burns.” He told her.
“Yes sir,” she agreed crying.
“You can feel the splinters digging into your cheek, and the blood start to seep out the wounds on your back?” He said. He pressed Mary’s face into the wall of the cabin.
“Why are you doing this?” Mary groaned, and the General released her.
“Because you remind me of someone I hated long ago,” the General said softly and left Mary hanging on the wall. She closed her eyes and cried not knowing when the next torturous event would begin. The last things Mary heard was the thud of the General’s boots walking across the cabin floor, the pat of the riding whip in his hands and the slam of the cabin door as she sank into unconsciousness.
If Robert Woodle could see what would happen to his daughter over the next few months in the parallel universe he would be beside himself with rage. His daughter’s experience in the stockades, being forced to wear a bar lap pig feed sack, and work in the fort’s garden was unknown to him as he searched the River for her. He never saw the beatings, or the humiliation Mary went through at the hands of the British soldiers. Fran Woodle could not look past her own grief to see her child forced to march day after day, interrogated, and given just enough food to keep her alive. They had no idea the realm their children were in existed. They had no concept of how much time passed between their experiences and that of their children.
The Woodle’s could not imagine their son Jack learning how to hunt with bow and arrow and use a spear. The heart broken couple never saw his conversations with Brian about Newton’s laws and Botany, or his talks with Soho about respect for nature and lessons on how to make his own clothes. They never saw his growing fondness of Cappy, as they would go through the swamp in search of food.
In like manner, Jack never saw the many nights his father sat alone in the house with a beer in his hand staring into the darkness. He never saw his mother’s affair, nor his sister living a tortured existence. However, he did not forget them either.
“What if we recreated the conditions that activated the gateway here?” He asked as Brian finished writing a mathematical equation on the cave wall. Brian looked at his student, put the piece of charcoal he was writing on the wall with down, and sat beside him on the wooden bench they had made.
“Look son,” Brian started putting an arm on Jack’s shoulder. “We’ve been over this.”
Jack stood up. “Let’s get something straight okay. I’m Jack Woodle not Freeman. I appreciate everything you, Soho, and Cappy have done for me. Really I do. I’m Jack Woodle. I live at 2430 Woodberry lane in Marion South Carolina! I’m in the tenth grade. My sister’s name is Mary, my mother’s name is Fran and my dad’s name is Robert!”
“We’ve been over this Jack,” Brian repeated, frustrated at the outburst. “We don’t have a power source. . .”
“You haven’t looked!” Jack screamed. “You’ve got a wife and daughter and a nice home to live in. You just need a son to make your little illusion complete!”
“That’s enough!” Brian warned. “You have no idea what I lost when the river caught me.
“I was a professor at Stanford University. I was writing a book on Botany. I was dating a beautiful nurse at the local hospital! Do you think I choose to be here? You think I want to wear deerskin clothes that itch all the time, eat out of wooden bowls and use the bathroom in the woods?”
By the time he finished his statement, Brian was nose to nose with Jack. The two glared at each other as Cappy and Soho came into the cave.
“What’s wrong?” Cappy asked as she put down her bowl of blackberries.
“Nothing,” Jack mumbled and walked past her and Soho. Cappy tried to stop Jack by grabbing his hand as Soho went to calm her husband.
“No, tell her the truth.” Brian ordered. “The new addition to our family wants to leave. He wants to go somewhere he can’t go and he’s pouting about it!”
“Brian stop,” Soho pleaded.
“I’m outta here,” Jack said. He grabbed his bow and arrows, spear and headed towards the front door.
“Jack wait,” Brian started. “I’m sorry.”
Jack paused and looked at the three standing in the middle of the cave. He could feel their hurt and wanting to reach out to him.
“I’m sorry too,” He started. “I just have another family on the other side of the river, and I’m not ready to let them go.” He tried to think of something else to say but just walked up the pathway to the swamp.
Cappy started to go after him but Brian caught her arm.
“No honey,” he said softly hugging her and Soho. “He’s got to work this through on his own. He’ll be back in a little while.”


CHAPTER SIX
Robert Woodle sat in the camper of Charles Blackfoot watching the Shaman mix and crush herbs in a clay bowl. Charles chanted some Pee Dee Indian song to the sound of Native American flutes playing from a CD player. Robert looked through drunken eyes at the dream catcher on the wall over the bed, the picture of the Indian on his horse at sun set that hung over the TV and the eagle feathers on the air conditioner.
“What are you doing?” he asked. He remembered going into the bar the night before and getting in a fight. The bouncer threw him out of the establishment, and he later wrecked his truck. He remembered walking over the Pee Dee River Bridge and cursing the river throwing his last beer can in it. The last thing he remembered was everything spinning right before he collapsed in a ditch.
“Hang over cure,” Charles said with a smile as he went to the camper’s small stove and poured hot water in the bowl from a whistling kettle.
Robert’s head pounded as he took the bowl and drank. He gagged. “It’s awful,” He complained.
“Drink it, or you’ll hate the next forty-eight hours.” The shaman warned. Robert looked at the black steaming concoction and grimaced. He felt nausea roll over him and quickly downed the rest of the potion. Robert sat back in the recliner and closed his eyes. Evil eyes with mincing smiles came at him from the darkness.
“Can you see the spirits?” Charles asked.
“Yeah,” Robert said fearfully. “What do I do?”
“Open your eyes man,” Charles joked. “Boy, you’re drunker than I thought.”
Robert opened his eyes and started to cuss out the shaman who now sat on a love seat beside him. He realized he felt a lot better so instead said, “Thank you.”
“No problem,” Charles answered. “When I saw the guy you picked a fight with I knew you were going to need a lot of help.”
Robert put a hand against his jaw and remembered the punches he received.
“No kidding. I didn’t see you there.”
“I’m surprised you could walk Mister Woodle,” Charles said. “You were pretty wasted.”
“I don’t know what’s happened since Jack’s death,” Robert said. “I’ve lost everything. Fran is gone. The house and my job have gone too. Worst of all Mary’s disappeared.”
I’ve been keeping up with you and your family.” Charles admitted.
“The police questioned Mary’s boyfriend, but he said he let her out at the river ramp after they fought. He won’t talk to me.” He paused and sniffed the air. “Oh my God, what’s that smell?”
“That would be you Mister Woodle,” Charles answered mater-of-fact.
Robert looked down at himself and cursed. He realized he sat covered in dried mud and vomit.
“My God,” Robert exclaimed. “What’s happened to me?” He put his head in his hands and began to cry. “What did I do to deserve this God? What?”
“Mister Woodle,” Charles Blackfoot started. “I don’t think you’re being punished,” He said as he put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I think God’s brought you here to bring an end to the River’s rampage.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in God,” Robert said after getting control of himself. Charles offered him a towel.
“I never said anything like that,” Charles, corrected. “I just said your pastor couldn’t help you.”
“Well you were right about that,” Robert said. “Hey, I need a shower.”
“It’s out back,” Charles said pointing with his finger to the back door. He led Robert Woodle to the outdoor shower and let him bathe. He smiled as Robert cursed the cold water. While Robert washed, Charles got him a pair of jeans and clean shirt to wear along with shoes and socks.
“Do you still have the Looking Stone Robert?” Charles asked as his guest shaved.
“I’m sorry but no,” Robert confessed. “I guess Fran or Mary took it when they left.”
Robert put on the Rolling Stone’s t-shirt and jeans. He sat down to put on the shoes and socks.
“We’ve got to find that stone,” Charles said.
“I have no idea where it could be,” Robert said as he tied his shoes.
“Robert you do,” the shaman countered. “Don’t you realize that you’ve been fighting a higher calling in your life? The reason you have become an alcoholic is that the task ahead of you is greater than you can wrap your mind around. The reason your wife has left is that the evil spirits in the swamp and river are trying to dishearten you. You got into that fight with the biggest guy you could find because you wanted to show the Great Spirit you are not strong enough to combat what he is calling you to fight.”
“You make it sound like I’m some mystic Indian warrior,” Robert said standing up. He walked to the camper window and looked at the forest that surrounded them. “I’m Irish, Blackfoot.”
“But your mother’s family has strong Indian ties,” Charles said. “I’ve been researching your family history Mister Woodle. Your faith in God, love for your family, and ties to the Mystic forces through your ancestors make you the perfect man for this fight.”
“Suppose you’re right,” Robert said. “Suppose Jack and Mary are alive and in some other realm created by God in answer to the prayers or spells of angry shawmen. How do we get them back?”
“That’s a start,” Charles said with a smile. “You’ve opened your mind to hear the call.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Robert objected. “I’m just willing to listen to what you have to say.”
“Like I said,” Charles said walking to his friend. “That’s a start. From here it should be pretty easy.”
Robert looked into the dark shadows of the forest as Charles explained the path that lay ahead for the Woodle family, and he purposed in his heart to see his children again. As Robert began to learn of the mystic journey he was going to travel Mary faced a new threat.
“Do you know what this is?” General Towen asked Mary. It was early dawn and the two were standing at the edge of a muddy pool of sand. Thick fog rolled around them making the swamp unusually eerie.
“No sir,” Mary said meekly. The teenager had spent the previous day in the garden, night in the stockades and now she was exhausted. Lack of food and exposure to the sun and harsh elements had brought her to an almost anorexic size. The stockades and beating had broken her spirit. She rubbed her rope burnt wrist weakly.
The General looked down at his prisoner and smiled. “It’s quicksand,” He said simply. “Lieutenant, how about you give a demonstration to the young lady?” The soldier that accompanied his commander took the captive he had brought and pushed in the young boy. Mary watched the youth struggle to get out. She went to help him but the General stopped her with his riding stick. The sand and mud clung to the boy’s legs and the bar lap sack he wore. The more he tried to struggle free the deeper down it took him.
“You see my dear,” The General said as the boy’s head disappeared beneath the sand. “This swamp is full of these quicksand pits. His Majesty sent me to regain control of this area when the Swamp Fox started raiding our supply lines and killing the Tories. Time after time, my troops and I chased him and his men into this swamp. I fell off my horse into a pool much like this one and wound up here. Over the following years, more of my men came here until one day they just stopped coming.”
The quicksand’s surface returned to its original appearance. The General nodded to his subordinate who had tied several vines together then rapped them around himself. He gave the British salute to his commander then jumped in after the boy.
“For years the swamp gave us nothing,” General Towen said as he watched his soldier’s progress by the moving vine. He cursed as the man surfaced with the boy’s body and struggled to solid land. “Then it would turn up soldiers from a war called the Civil war, and from time to time we would discover the river depositing men, women, boys, and girls such as you.”
The Lieutenant pushed the body onto the land and pulled himself up. Mary watched as they stripped the youth of the bar lap sack then dumped the body back into the quicksand.
“I believe that these quicksand pits are gateways back and forth to our world,” He said. “There are thousands of them through out this swamp, and I will use every captive I have until I find a way to get my men home.”
Mary looked up horrified at the General as she realized his terrible plan and thought of going under water again. “Please . . . sir!” She tried to run but the General grabbed her arm.
“No!” she screamed. “Please General! I don’t want to die!” She cried as they came to another pool of quicksand.
The General held Mary in front of him.
“For a long time we were content to simply live at Fort New England.” The General said as he stroked Mary’s long black hair. “Then we understood we were not going to ever be rescued or see our families again unless we took action. By now, even our great, great, great, great grandchildren are dead. We cannot kill ourselves you see. Good soldiers do not do that. And since we have no enemy to fight we can only grow old, but you have seen that option is not a good idea either.” He pulled at the skin on his face.
“We’ve tried to engage the other people the swamp have brought here in an effort to get them to kill us, but you see that is a futile effort because the cowards run away. So we use those we capture to test the quicksand pits until we find one that will take us back home and let us die a natural, hopefully quick death.”
“Please,” Mary pleaded. “Don’t.”
“I’m sorry my dear. . .” The General said. “I’ve got to take care of my men.”
Mary screamed as the soldier pushed her into the pond. She struggled to the surface gasping for breath. Mary fought panic as she slowly sank in the mixture of mud and sand. She watched the General and his Lieutenant staring at her as she sank up to her neck in the mire. “Please. . .” she pleaded coughing as sand, water, and mud filled her mouth. “Daddy!” she closed her eyes and tried to picture her family. “Mommy,” The quicksand choked the word out of her as she sank beneath the surface.
For what seemed like hours, Mary sank slowly in the quicksand. She opened her eyes expecting to see either the gates of heaven or hell. All she saw was the blackness of the pit. Her lungs felt like they were about to explode as the arm of the Lieutenant wrapped around her and pulled her to the surface. Mary gasped and breathed in deeply as the soldier pulled her to the safety of the land. The General allowed her to lie on the ground heaving sand, water, and mud out of her lungs. She lay there breathless, as her tormentors quietly talked something over and seemed to reach an agreement.
Without a word to Mary, the soldiers forced her to stand. She stood as they tied her hands behind her back and then marched through the swamp to the fort. When she returned, Mary marched to the prison yard. Mary barley reacted when they removed her soiled garments. The other prison girls poured buckets of cold water over her head washing off the quicksand. Mary could hardly feel her body shivering. Mary put on the new sack given to her, and then followed the guards to the stock aids. Because of the awkward position of kneeling, Mary could not get much rest. Her inner thighs burned from being raw due to the march while covered in the quicksand. Her feet stung from burst water blisters and her muscles and back ached. The limited movement allowed by her prison offered no relief. A whippoorwill sang in the darkness and she heard the occasional hoot of an owl or cry of a bobcat. She looked down to see the feet of General Towen. He knelt beside her and stroked her hair.
“It’s horrible isn’t it?” he asked.
“What?” she asked.
“The feeling of drowning is horrible,” he said.
“Yes,” Mary said.
“I guess the stock aids are quite uncomfortable too?” the General asked.
“Yes sir,” Mary admitted.
“I’ll never forget when I fell into that first pit,” The General said standing. “I called for my men, and saw them in a similar situation. I called for my horse that kept on running. I felt the sand fill my boots, pants, shirt, then slowly creep up my face.” Caleb ran his finger up Mary’s cheek to remind her of the sensation. “I refused to die Mary. Even though my lungs burned and the tiny grains of sand scratched my eyes.” The General stood and walked where Mary could see him. “I stand before you victorious Mary.” Caleb held his hands out to accent his point. “Even though the events torment me in the night, I am victorious over them.” He turned from his victim and walked off to his cabin whistling.
To Mary it seemed like the night would never end. She would drift off into a semiconscious state only to awake when the drawbridge lowered and the patrols came in and went out. She thought of how insane the General was and felt like she would soon join him herself.


CHAPTER SEVEN
Jack sat beside a tree overlooking the river. While his sister languished in the stocks, he struggled with his own emotional prison. He had spent the days wondering in the swamp. Several times, he started to go back to the Freeman’s, but he decided to spend some time to himself. He deeply regretted his argument with Brian. He made up his mind that he would return home say he was sorry, and try to let his family go. What was it his father said, “All things work together for good for those who loved the Lord and those who were the called. . . something… something… something.
Memories of his family going to Sunday morning service flooded Jack’s mind. He remembered the preacher preaching while Mary and he played under the pews of the Church of God. He remembered his mom’s high Soprano voice and his dad’s bass voice joining with the choir and congregation as they sang about heaven and the love of Jesus. He promised the Lord that if he got him back home Jack would be in church with his family every Sunday. How did his dad end it? Oh yeah, “In Jesus’ name.” he said aloud.
Jack looked up at the star filled sky and full moon having finishing a swim. In an effort to not draw, the attention of any British patrols Jack quietly slipped off his shirt and pants then let himself down into the river.
He stood after dipping under the surface to get use to the cool temperature. It was much warmer than the last time he had gone swimming. Jack had forgotten how good it felt to relax. He let his feet sink in the sandy bottom then swam from one side of the river to the other and back again. He pulled himself up on to the bank and rested then dressed. He gathered some briar berries for a snack and sat on the bank munching them.
“There you are!” Cappy called out happily. Jack had stood to collect his weapons and fell backward into the water with a splash.
“Cappy! What are you doing here?” Jack asked surprised by her sudden appearance.
“Looking for you silly,” Cappy said leaning against the tree.. “Brian and Soho have been worried silly,” she said wadding out into the water. She dove under the surface and came up in front of him.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I’ve been tracking a couple of British patrols,” Jack said pointing downstream.
“Oh,” she Cappy said quietly realizing the situation. She fearfully gazed into the swamp and Jack felt a ting of guilt.
“Let’s go home,” Jack said.
Jack gathered his bow, arrows, and spear and took Cappy by the hand. He didn’t know it was the touch of her hand in his or the moonlight gleaming off her long brown hair but Jack felt drawn to Cappy, nervous. His mouth was suddenly dry .
“What’s wrong?” Cappy asked. Jack couldn’t answer..
“Cappy let’s go home.” He offered.
“Just a minute,” Cappy said. She reached over and pulled Jack to her and kissed him. He dropped his weapons in surprise and smiled at her. Then Jack kissed her back.
“What’s school like?” Cappy asked as they sat on a log looking over the slowly moving water. The memory made him pause as Jack sat beside Cappy. The two rested in the shallow water.
“It’s kind of hard to explain,” Jack started. “Classes are okay but the teachers are nowhere near as good as Brian. Friends are cool. I get to play football and. . ..” His voice drifted off as he felt a wave of depression slip over him. “How do you like this?” He added.
“What?” Cappy asked looking at Jack.
“Living here now in the river.” Jack said.
“I guess it’s okay. It’s all I’ve known.” Cappy explained.
“What if there was something else?” Jack asked standing up.
“You mean what you and Brian argued about the other night?”
“Yeah,” Jack started then stopped.
“I guess I need to let it go,” Jack said standing. Cappy stood too then smiled.
“I believe that if getting home is important to you then it needs to be to me too. And we’ll get their someday.”
Jack smiled at his girlfriend.
“Yeah, someday.” He vowed. Jack looked at Cappy, smiled and kissed her again. The two started back towards their home and had gone a dozen yards when Jack remembered he left his spear. Cappy said she would wait while he went to get it. He picked up his weapon and was returning to his girlfriend when he heard her scream.
“Cappy?” Jack asked. He walked around the bend to where Cappy should have been and panicked. She was in the center of a British patrol!
The patrol had snuck up on Cappy while she waited for Jack.
“Looks like we got a rabbit boy!” One laughed as Cappy tried to run.
“Seems more like a doe to me,” Another said as he held her in his arms. She screamed as he ran his hands over her. Jack felt anger fill his heart. He quickly put down his spear and picked up his bow. There were five of them in the patrol, and he had six arrows plus his spear. He knew he might not hit all of them, but he could hit enough to let Cappy get away.
“Didn’t she have a buck with her?” the leader who held Cappy asked. He motioned with his hand and two of them stepped into the river while two eased into the swamp in search of Jack.
“Where’s your boyfriend Lassy?” the soldier asked Cappy who wriggled to get free.
“I was by myself!” Cappy lied while she hoped that Jack had run for safety.
“Now we got better ears than that missy.” The soldier laughed. “We’ll take you back to the General. He’ll know how to tame you!”
Jack slowly pulled the loaded bow back. He held his breath like Brian taught him, tracked his target then let the arrow fly.
Cappy ducked as the soldier looked up in surprise at the sound of the arrow whizzing through the night air. The tip of the oak projectile sunk deep into the soldier’s throat as his comrades turned to see what was wrong. One pointed his musket in the direction Cappy disappeared, but before he could pull the trigger, another arrow from Jack pierced his cheek causing the solider to scream in pain. The remaining three soldiers began to run back towards the fort and Jack went to find Cappy.
“Are you okay?” He asked when he found her. She was kneeling behind a tree crying.
“Hold me Jack,” She begged. Jack let his weapons fall to the swamp and embraced his friend. She trembled from fear and Jack tried to comfort her.
“It’s okay,” Jack said softly as he rubbed her back. He repeated the words until Cappy stopped shaking and pulled away. She kissed him gently in gratitude.
“Thank you,” She said. “I had hoped you got away.”
“I’ll never leave you Cappy,” Jack said as he picked up his weapons.
“Promise?” Cappy asked as they started quickly towards their home. She made Jack stop and look at her.
“Promise,” He said and held up the Boy Scouts Pledge. Cappy smiled and followed him through the swamp back to their home.


CHAPTER EIGHT
“Robert Woodle, are you out of your mind?” Fran asked leaning over her mother’s table. Robert had just shown up at the back door. Her mom had let him in against Fran’s wishes. Fran was dressed in blue jeans, a blue sweater and heels. Robert wore jeans, Hawaiian shirt and tennis shoes. He had just told her about his plans to rescue their children.
“No honey,” Robert answered. “I’m finally in my right mind.”
“You’re talking about the Big Pee Dee River being some type of gateway to another world, and our children being there.” Fran said. “And you’re okay with that?”
“Where are their bodies if they’re dead?” Robert asked. “Fran you’ve always been the reasonable one in our family,”
“I’m trying to move on Robert,” Fran asked walking to the refrigerator. “I love you and the kids, but they’re gone. The house is gone.”
“That don’t matter honey,” Robert said as Fran poured two glasses of tea.
“It does Robert.” Fran argued and handed him his drink. Robert sipped the liquid and stood up.
“Robert, I’m seeing someone else.” Fran admitted. Robert looked at her stunned.
“But we’re not divorced.” He stammered.
“We might as well be,” Fran, said sitting down at the end of the table.
“No.” Robert said. “No! I’m not going to let you go.”
“There’s nothing you can do Robert,” Fran said. “He’ll be here any minute and I’m going out with him.”
“Who,” Robert asked. “Who is he?”
“I doubt you know him,” Fran said getting up. She looked out the kitchen window and smiled as she saw the lights of his truck pulling into her mother’s driveway.
“We met at work,” She explained. “His name is Ted. Ted Dubose.”
“Are you going to tell him you’re married?” Robert asked.
“He knows Robert,” Fran said getting her purse off the counter and heading towards the front door. “He’s married too.”
“I can’t believe you’ve slipped this far from God.” Robert said catching her arm. “I can’t believe you’re going to throw our lives away.” Fran glared at her husband.
“You threw us away first Robert,” She stated. “Let go of my arm.”
“Fran,” Her mom called. “Ted’s here. Do you want me to send him back there?”
“No mom,” Fran answered. “Tell him I’ll be there in a minute.” She looked at her husband and said, “Goodbye Robert,” then walked through the swinging door.
Robert stood there not knowing what to do. He wanted to go beat the fool out of this Ted person. He wanted to chase after Fran. He wanted a beer. He heard the sounds of Fran talking to Ted at the front door and promising her mom she would be back later. He heard the engine to the truck start and watched them drive off.
“I’m so sorry Robert,” Fran’s mom said softly as she came through the door. She was a sweet gray-haired woman dressed in a blue bed gown and white robe. “I tried to tell her not too,”
“Its okay ma,” Robert said patting her hand. “I guess I had it coming.”
“I’ve been praying for you Robert,” she said. “Fran too.”
“Thanks ma,” Robert said. “Don’t stop because I believe its working.” He turned to go.
“Robert,” Mrs. Johnson called as he stepped out the back door. “Don’t give up on her. She still loves you.” Robert looked back at his mother-in-law and smiled.
“I won’t,” he said and walked into the night. “I can’t give up on myself.”
Fran and Ted went out to eat at the Olive Garden then drove back to Marion County. The moon was full and the stars twinkled against the velvet sky.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Ted said putting his arm around Fran as he drove. She had just told him about her conversation with Robert. “He sounds like a real wacko.”
“He’s not,” Fran objected. “He’s just lost so much in so short a time.” She paused then smiled at the blonde haired welder holding her. “I’m just glad I’ve got you now,” she reached up and kissed him on the cheek.
“You want to go home?” Ted offered.
Fran shook her head. “No, it’s such a beautiful night. Let’s go to the river.” Ted looked down at her.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
She nodded. He smiled in anticipation of what he hoped was coming and pointed the truck towards Gallivants Ferry.
As Fran and Ted drove towards the river, Robert walked back to Charles Blackfoot’s’ camper and prayed for his family. He feared for what his wife was going to do. He feared for his children’s safety, and he feared for his sanity.
Mary was afraid too. She stood on the beach over the dead bodies of the soldiers as the General screamed. His soldiers had returned and told him about the capture of Cappy, her escape and the young man who had shot his officers. The General had grabbed Mary out of the stocks and marched her down to the river to view the scene as soon as it was light.
“Jack Woodle!” the General screamed again into the swamp. It was now the middle of the day and Mary was hot, thirsty, and tired. She could not believe the General was screaming for her brother, or that Jack had killed two men.
“General,” she said softly. “Sir, there must be some mistake.” The General glared at Mary and backhanded her knocking her to the sand.
“Did you see that Mister Woodle?” The General yelled and got Mary to kneel. “Maybe you don’t know who this is. Speak girl. Tell your brother who you are!”
“Jack,” Mary called weakly. “Run away Jack!” she screamed. “Don’t let this creep get you,” The General hit Mary again knocking her face first to the ground. He paced up and down the beach as his men searched the swamp for Jack and Cappy.
Jack and Brian hid amongst the trees across the river from the General. They had crossed up stream and backtracked when they first saw the battalion of British scanning the swamp. The two decided it would be safer to view the British from their observation point across the river.
“That’s my sister!” Jack whispered angrily as Brian held him back.
“This is not going to bode well,” Brian said as he and Jack watched.
“Hear me Woodle!” General Towen screamed. “I will kill her slowly if you don’t show yourself to me!” Brian put his hand on Jack’s shoulder to keep him still. Some more troops arrived with several female prisoners lined up.
“Don’t play with me!” the General screamed. “I know you’re out there. You’ve killed British troops and by law you will pay for what you did!”
“I count at least six prisoners,” Brian whispered to Jack. “He wouldn’t kill defenseless girls. He’s just trying to get you to surrender.”
“What about my sister?” Jack said quietly. “I can’t let her stay with him.”
“We’ll follow them back to the fort and get her out the same way I rescued Soho,” Brain offered.
They turned back towards the beach when they heard the General order, “Ready!”
The prisoners now stood in knee-deep water at General Caleb's command. On the beach, the General stood with his ridding whip raised. “Aim!” he ordered.
“I can’t let them do this!” Jack whispered to Brian. “I’m going to count on you to get my sister out of this Brian.” He said. Brian reached out to pull him back. He drew back as Jack made himself visible.
“Wait!” Jack screamed as the General yelled, “Fire!” the troops paused and looked at their Commander who held up his hand. Jack stood across the river while Brian hid behind a tree watching the scene unfold. Jack held up his hands and said, “I surrender.”
“No Jack!” Mary screamed as she stood in the water.
“Very good, Mister Woodle.” He motioned to four of his soldiers to meet Jack, as the young man made his way down the bank to the river’s edge.
With their muskets trained on him, the soldiers motioned for Jack to cross the river. They met him when he could stand and dragged him to the beach. They tied his hands behind his back and then made him kneel beside his sister and the other captives.
“You killed two well trained officers of his Majesty’s military?” The General asked after inspecting the youth before him.
“I’m sorry,” Jack said.
“Liar!” The General screamed hitting Jack. “My men told me you were rescuing your woman!”
Mary looked at Jack in surprise. She had wanted to embrace her brother badly, but she didn’t dare move out of fear of the General. Jack looked so much more mature in his deer skinned garments and brown skin. She could not believe her brother was alive, or that he had killed two soldiers with a homemade bow, much less had a girlfriend.
“I know there are more of you out there!” The General screamed to the swamp and the opposite bank. “I’m going to catch all of you! I’m going to kill all of you! This land belongs to his Majesty of England! I will purify it of the infidels!” He nodded towards his men who raised their weapons at the girls still standing in the river. “Fire!” he screamed as he made Jack and Mary Woodle watch. Without a word, two of the girls fell backward into the river. Their bodies slowly floated downstream as Mary cried.
“Tell your people!” General Towen hollered. “All of these are next!” He motioned to his officers and the men forced Mary and Jack to their feet. They marched to the fort as the General planned the annihilation of the others caught in the river. Brian followed, sticking to the shadows and making his own plans for Jack and Mary’s escape. In their original reality someone else was about to experience the trip to the parallel universe.
“What was that?” Fran asked as she lay in the sleeping bag beside Ted. She was looking at the full moon and stars thinking of her children. She hated who and what she had become. Fran couldn’t help but blame Robert.
“I didn’t hear anything,” Ted said rolling over.
“I’m sure you didn’t,” Fran said. “What with all that groaning and grunting you were doing.” She got out the sleeping bag and slipped on her clothes.
“What’s wrong honey?” Ted asked following her actions.
“Nothing,” Fran lied. She didn’t feel right. “You put the sleeping bag too close to the water!” She said as she held it up. The water had soaked the end. Ted pulled his shirt over his head and said, “No. It was dry when we started,” He grinned. “Hey baby, you really moved me.”
“Stop it,” Fran said. “O crap, my feet are wet.”
“Here, I’ll help you.” Ted said and reached out to Fran.
“I’m all right!” Fran said. “Just hold my shoes!” She ordered.
“Hey,” Ted said as he waited for Fran to step over the sleeping bag. “Did you hear that?”
“What?” Fran asked. “I don’t hear anything.”
“That what I mean,” Ted said. “No frogs, crickets or even mosquitoes. Is the river rising?” He asked looking at the bank.
“I don’t know,” Fran, said rubbing her arms. “Ted, let’s get out of here okay?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Ted agreed rolling up the sleeping bag. “I think that’s a good idea.”
Ted started back down the little muddy trail holding the sleeping bag and flashlight. He told Fran where to step as they journeyed down the bank.
“There was water in this little creek earlier,” he said as they got close to the road where the truck was. “Wasn’t there Fran?”Ted asked and looked back as he heard a whooshing sound.
Knocked off his feet by a wave Ted became disoriented as he rolled head over heals for several feet. He lost the flashlight and sleeping bag in a desperate effort to grab Fran. By the aid of the moonlight, Ted got his bearings and swam towards it. He coughed and gagged as he dragged himself to the bank of the river. The welder trembled in fear as the image of Fran reaching out to him then disappearing into the blackness of the river played repeatedly in his mind.
Meanwhile, Robert Woodle knew the time had come. He and Charles had returned to the boat ramp where Kyle had told them he last saw Mary.
“Do you think it’s still here?” Robert asked the two exited the blue Ford.
“It’s got to be if your wife didn’t know where it was,” Charles explained. “Mary had to have it on her. We’ve looked everywhere else.”
Charles handed Robert a flashlight and two started searching the riverbank.
“It’s been so long since Mary vanished,” Robert protested. “The river’s tide could have taken it back out; someone could have picked it up.
“Trust what the Great Spirit is telling you,” Charles said. “You know it’s here just like I do. Quit trying to argue with him.”
“Oh all right already!” Robert said. He tried to get the image of his wife leaving in that truck out of his mind. He then forced out the image of his daughter and wife pulling out of his drive way that last time and Jack running towards the beach. He remembered what the Looking Stone looked like. The stone’s smooth texture and jade color came into view. Next, he could see the hole in the center. He tried to imagine his daughter standing on the river holding the stone. He saw an image of her falling backward and the stone flying in the air.
“Mary!” he cried as he saw his daughter disappear beneath the surface.
“You saw her?” Charles asked running back to Robert who made his way to where the river caught his daughter.
“Yes, she was standing right here.” Robert said kneeling at the water’s edge. He started to cry.
“You were right Charles,” he said. “My children are alive!” He cried as the wind began to howl.
“Watch out!” Charles yelled. He dove and pushed Robert to the side as a wave reached out for him.
“The river wants you Robert,” Charles yelled above the noise of the waves crashing on the boat ramp.
“I know,” Robert said. “My family started all this.” The two watched as the river grew calm then began to rise. A waterspout formed then slowly became a human-like figure. The two friends watched in amazement as the male figure walked towards them. The creature stood on the edge of the river glaring at them.
“What do we do now?” Robert asked Charles as they knelt by the truck.
“Let the Great Spirit show you Robert,” Charles said. Robert tried to push past his fear and looked at the spirit. “It’s not time yet,” He said. The creature nodded. “What else do I need?”
Robert asked yelling. The creature held out his hand to Robert.
Charles raced to the truck opened his tool box and produced a bow and quiver of arrows. He then pulled out a leather shield and his medicine bag and ran to Robert,
“What do I need to do?” Robert asked.
“You’ve got to heal the river,” Charles said. “Close the gap and set things right.”
“No!” Robert yelled. “Jack and Mary are in there!”
“Go with the river and get them!” Charles said. He held out the Native American tools to Robert who shook his head.
“I don’t know how to use these things,” He argued.
“Robert you do,” Charles said as the wind began to howl and the river started white capping.
“You were born for this,” Charles said. “Except what you are meant to be and do.”
Robert removed his shirt and began to chant without knowing what he was saying. Charles joined him as Robert began chanting in an ancient Native American dialect. He opened the bag and produced some jars of paint Charles had made. The two continued the prayer as Robert put yellow and red pant on his fingers and ran them around his biceps. He then took blue and made the image of water over his chest. Last of all, Robert took the single eagle feather from inside and tied it to his left arm. Robert handed the bag to Charles then walked to the figure standing on the water.
“Wait!” Charles called out and raced to Robert. He handed him a small leather pouch which held the Looking Stone. “Call for me when the time is right!” Charles said with his hand on his friend’s shoulder. Robert smiled and took the pouch attaching it to his belt loop.
Charles kept chanting as he watched Robert and the spirit walk to the center of the river then drop down out of site. The wind and water grew calm and the shaman knew this was the time for war. Charles jumped into his truck and raced back to the campground.


CHAPTER NINE
Brain searched the swamp around Fort New England looking for the tunnel that had helped him and Soho so many years before. The purpose was to serve as an escape route, but since the inhabitants of the River had been for the most part peaceful, it wound up abandoned. The professor hid in the shadows watching the guards walking along the top of the fort wall. It was mid afternoon when he found what he was looking for. Kudzu vines had overrun the entrance to the tunnel. Swamp water covered the bottom of the eight-foot wide by six-foot deep passage. Brian stared into the blackness of the tunnel and stepped inside.
The tunnel ran fifty yards behind the fort ending up inside a storage room. Brian felt his way along tripping over piles of dirt and rats that scurried past. When he finally reached the trap door, he pushed against it. He cursed because it would not move. Over the years, the soldiers had stacked barrels over the entrance to the tunnel which was a wooden trap door. Brian hit the wall in frustration. He refused to allow Jack and his sister to remain in the hands of General Towen. Brian’s lower back still had the marks from the torture he went through before his escape.
As Brian thought of what he could do to rescue Jack and Mary the two were beginning to loose hope they could be. Jack had spent the night being tortured on a rack. Mary watched and endured a beating from a leather belt.
“You need to realize boy,” the General had said during a visit. “You are about to die for treason.”
“Let my sister go,” Jack pleaded through the pain. “I’m the one who killed your men.”
The General laughed. “My boy,” he said pushing down on the lever that tightened Jack’s bonds. “You fail to realize you are in no position to tell or ask me to do anything.” Jack screamed as the tissue in his arms and legs began to snap. “The two girls executed paid for the death of my men,” Caleb Towen continued. “This is to show the inhabitants who have kept you from me what happens to those who rebel against General Caleb Towen.”
“Stop!” Mary begged the General from her position on the wall. The General looked at the young woman and smiled as he pushed the lever again. Jack’s body began to rock from side to side, as the ropes lifted him off the table. “General,” Mary tried to get the soldier’s attention even as the lash came down across her bare back again. “Please,”
The General released the pressure and Jack groaned as he dropped to the table. The soldier held up his hand to stop the guard whipping Mary.
“You should be pleading for your own life Mary,” He said as he stood beside her. “Your brother’s will be over soon.” He promised.
Mary dangled from ropes tied to the iron rings in the walls of the torture cabin. If not for her restraints, she would be laying on the floor.
“I’ll do anything you want me to,” Mary promised. “Let my brother live.”
“My dear,” the General said as he brushed Mary’s hair off her face. “There is nothing you can do for a man who’s lived for over two centuries.” He caressed her check with his boney finger. “Still,” he said with a pause. “Maybe I could feel love one more time.” Mary tried to hide her revulsion as the General pressed his mouth against hers. She tried to imagine it was someone else but the smell of age and his receded lips made her want to gag. The General lifted his head and smiled at Mary.
“I will grant you this favor,” he promised as he stood. “I will allow you and your brother to spend his last evening alive together.” He motioned to the guard who came and cut the ropes that held Mary. She fell in a heap to the floor at the feet of the General. He looked at her bloody back and turned to Jack.
“Enjoy your last hours on earth,” He said then walked to the door. The guard held it open for the General, as he walked out patting his riding whip in his hand. “Tomorrow at sunrise, your existence comes to an end.” General Towen vowed. Jack watched him walk into the evening sunshine and the cabin door close behind the fort guard.
“Mary,” Jack called as he struggled to his side. “Are you alright?”
“I’ve been better,” Mary groaned. She could not stand so she slid across the floor to her brother holding the sack with her free hand. A stream of blood from her beaten back and legs followed her.
“I’m sorry sis,” Jack said. He rolled off the rack and hit the floor with a thud. Mary held her brother’s head in her lap and stroked his hair.
“It’s not your fault,” she said with a weak smile.
“No,” he said weakly. “I should have been a better brother.”
“Well, I could have been a better big sister too.” Mary admitted. “I guess I took you for granted. I’m sorry Jack.” She cried.
“Me too,” Jack said. The siblings spent the next couple of hours talking and making up lost time.
While Jack and Mary went through their reconciliation, Fran awoke on the beach where her children had been just a few hours earlier. She was soaked but the evening sun warmed her. She looked around confusedly.
“Ted?” she called. Fran sat up spitting out sand and water. “Ted, where are you?” she asked. The fact it was mid afternoon now when before it was midnight greatly confused her.
Fran looked behind and saw the river start to foam and bubble. She scrambled for higher ground at the thought of another wave crashing down over her and taking her farther downstream. She sat amazed as she saw Robert rise in the midst of the river caring a bow. Robert carried a leather quiver full of arrows along with a shield strapped to his back. Fran saw a medicine bag attached to a leather belt around his waist and a bow slung across his shoulder. He walked across the water to his wife and knelt beside her.
“Are you alright,” he asked.
“Robert,” she started feeling her husband’s arms and face. “I think I will be.”
The gentle touch of his wife caused Robert to close his eyes. “Mary, I’m sorry I let you down.” He said softly.
“I let you down too,” she said. “I went a lot farther than I ever thought I would.” She said.
“It’s my fault. I’ve been shirking my family duties,” Robert said. “I guess when I thought Jack died I let my grief kill my love for you and Mary.”
“I thought I’d failed you as a wife,” Fran admitted. “I’m so sorry,” she said.
“It’s okay honey. I forgive you,” Robert said embracing his wife. “I forgive you too,” Fran said and they kissed. Robert stood to his feet and helped his wife up.
“Let’s get our children back from this river and go home.” He said with a smile. His wife nodded.
“How are we going to find them?” She asked.
“They’re being held in a British fort called New England,” Robert stated. “Fran, there are some things you need to just accept are the truth right now that I’ve got to tell you.”
“I’ve just watched my husband walk on water,” Fran said. “I think I can believe anything you say.”Fran nodded as she walked by her husband and he explained what had happened from the beginning. He told Fran of the ties he held to Francis Marion, and what his ancestor had done to the British. He let Fran know what the river spirit had told him as he journeyed to this side of the River.
“You’ve got to close the gap by setting things right?” Fran asked confused.
“Yes,” Robert said. The sun was setting and they were looking at the Fort where their children sat captive. As they stood under the cover of the spruce trees, they watched the patrols come in and go out.
“How are you going to do that?” Fran asked.
“First, we’re going to rescue our children.” Robert promised. “Then I’m going to send you back home and close the gateway forever.”
“But how,” Fran asked quietly.
“The same way it was opened,” Robert answered. They stepped a little deeper into the shadows of the swamp as the evening patrol came by.
Robert seemed to look far away for a moment then spoke quietly “Follow me,” he motioned with his hand and started walking into the swamp. Fran looked at the fort, and followed her husband.
Brian emerged from the tunnel with a crazy plan in mind. He would surrender to the evening patrol, let them carry him to General Towen, and then Brian would kill him. Of course that meant Brian himself could end up dead, but he would try to avoid that as long as possible. Brian hoped, he could find the siblings and the entrance to the tunnel then escape before he died. He stepped through the Kudzu and gasped as Robert stood in front of him with a finger to his lips. Brian followed his gaze and saw a British solider standing on the wall looking in their direction!
“Who are you?” Brian asked as the three stepped back inside the tunnel entrance.
“Robert Woodle,” he heard the man answered. “This is my wife Fran.”
“Jack’s parents,” Brian asked. The two looked at the professor quizzically.
“Jack’s been my family’s guest here in the river,” Brian explained. “My daughter Cappy rescued him from the British. He’s in there because he tried to help some of the British prisoners and free his sister.”
“Well, thank you for looking out for my son.” Robert said. “I’m afraid all of this is because of my family.”
As the evening sky turned dark, Robert explained what created the River to Brian. The professor listened quietly until Robert finished.
“It makes since,” he said. “Nothing known to man would have the power to open such a gateway and make such a place.”
“If we can get Jack and Mary free,” Robert hypothesized. “We can replace the family raped and killed by General Towen. I will pray for the Great Spirit to return everything like it was and if I am right…”
“It will be like none of this ever happened,” Brian concluded.
“I believe it will,” Robert said. “If not, we will stay with you and help you defeat these guys once and for all.”
Brian Freeman nodded in agreement. He thought about loosing Soho and Cappy then going back to 1974 to when he became the one caught in the river.
“Let’s go get your children,” Brian said with a smile. He stuck out his hand and they shook. Fran put her hand on top and smiled up at Brian.
“My children,” she said and started to cry.
“Our children,” Robert said and hugged his wife.


CHAPTER TEN
Jack and his sister spent their time together clearing the air, mending their wounds and planning an escape. Jack helped Mary clean her wounds and sowed the bar lap sack with the leather straps from his shirt. Mary rubbed her brother’s muscles until he regained feeling in them.
They stood and began to examine their surroundings. The only exit was the front door of the cabin. They pressed against the back and sidewalls of the cabin searching for a weak spot. A search of the floor with the lantern revealed that it was just as sturdy as the walls. Jack sat on the rack that had tortured him earlier and threw his hands up in the air.
“I’m dead,” he said.
“Don’t you dare say that,” Mary said as she sat beside him. “I just got you back Jack. I’m not going to loose you again!”
They hugged and Jack looked at the lantern that lit the room.
“Hey,” he whispered patting Mary’s back.
“Ow,” she said as he got up.
“Sorry,” he said and stood up. “Look at this,” he said holding up the lantern.
“What about it?” Mary asked.
“What’s this cabin made out of?” Jack asked.
“Wood,” Mary said then she understood what Jack had in mind. “Old dry wood,” she described and nodded. Jack quickly shared his idea with Mary.
As the hours slowly passed, the two worked feverously to make their plan ready. Jack and Mary took off the cover of the lantern and set it on a floor in the corner. They quietly removed the legs from the only chair in the room and hid them for future use. The black sky slowly turned light as the dawn approached.
Jack looked through the cracks in the door and saw the execution squad approaching. He nodded to his sister who took one of the legs from the chair and broke the lantern. Jack handed her his shirt and they turned the torture rack on its side and pushed the device to the flames. Jack put his shirt over the opening hoping to conceal the smoke while the overturned table hid the growing fire.
The door opened as Mary turned around and started pleading for her brother’s life. Jack pretended to try to calm her hoping the distraction would work. Obviously irritated the soldiers yanked Mary outside. They ordered Jack out next and shut the door, oblivious to the flames. Jack looked up and saw General Towen standing by the flag poll in the parade yard dressed in his British military garb. The buttons gleamed in the morning sunlight as Jack marched across to meet him.
The bridge to the fort slowly lowered as the morning patrol returned, it remained opened at the General’s order. He wanted the other River inhabitants to see what would happen to those who defied him. Jack marched until he stood twenty feet from the General. The guards tied his hands behind his back and put a blindfold over his eyes. They led the young man to the wall of the fort, and the firing squad got into position. Mary had to march to the General who smiled at her affectionately.
“Good morning my dear,” He said as he lifted her chin and kissed her. “I’ve decided that after this unpleasant business is taken care of you will be my wife.”
“I’d rather die!” Mary said quietly.
“No, believe me you wouldn’t.” The General said. He turned his attention back to Jack.
“Jack Woodle you are hereby found guilty of treason against his Majesty and the glory of Britten! By law, you are to be punished by death!” He looked at the cages against the far wall of the fort and then out the opening of the lowered draw bridge.
“See that death is the only certain thing that awaits those who defy me! I am General Caleb Towen! I am the Lord of this land! I will and it is done!” He glared at the swamp. “You belong to me!” He hollered. “Now watch one of your own die!”
As the General turned his attention to the execution of Jack, Robert and Brian pushed on the trap door of the tunnel with all their might. The barrels moved slightly but not enough. During the night, the two and Fran had returned to the Freeman’s home for Soho and Cappy’s help. The woman hurried throughout the night to gather the aid of as many settlers in the River as they could while Brian and Robert returned to free the children.
“Come on,” Robert urged the barrels. “God help us!”
The two crouched low and thrust themselves into the trap door with all of their might. The barrel sitting on it fell over and rolled to the door with a thud. Brian lifted himself up after making sure no one was coming then helped up Jack’s father.
“Looks like we’re in the right place,” Brian said as he read the barrel labels by the light of a torch.
“Okay,” Robert said as he opened the door quietly. “It looks like they’re getting ready to execute somebody. Let’s go find the children.”
“Right behind you,” Brian said as Robert hugged the shadows and moved towards the parade yard. The professor stopped when he saw a barrel marked gunpowder. “I’ll be right there,” he whispered, but Robert had already moved towards the prison area.
“Ready!” The General ordered oblivious to the invasion that had begun. “Aim,” he called.
“Come on!” Jack and Mary whispered to the flames.
“Fire!” The General looked around for the soldier who dared to make the order ahead of him. He followed the direction of the man’s gaze and saw the inside of the torture cabin ablaze. “How?” the General asked as he looked down at Mary who grinned at him. She now wielded one of the legs of the broken chair and swung it at the General’s head.
“Run Jack!” Mary called. Jack used an old magic trick he learned to get out of the ropes, as the fire and his sister’s attack confused the firing squad. By the time they pulled their triggers he was running down the length of the wall.
“Jack!” Robert’s dad called out to his son as soon as he heard Mary’s voice and saw them in the parade yard. He started running towards his son then saw Mary felled by a right cross from General Towen. “Mary!” he screamed.
In the meantime, the people who rallied with the Freeman’s and the Woodle’s stormed the lowered drawbridge armed with limbs and hoes.
“We’ve got to take out those guards on the wall!” Fran shouted to Soho who nodded. They started knocking down the ladders that the soldiers used to get to their post as Cappy drew her bow and fired. The British soldiers on the ground began to fight with the settlers using hand-to-hand combat. Those on the catwalk would pick off the settlers until Cappy, Robert, or the others armed with bows shot them.
Jack started running to give aid to his sister as the General raised a knife to kill her. He did not see his father until Robert tackled the General.
“Dad!” Jack yelled happily.
“Get your sister to safety Jack!” His dad ordered as the General punched him. Robert hit the ground with a thud as the General struggled to his feet.
“You dare,” the General said as he kicked Robert in the face. He didn’t see Jack pull Mary to the shadows.
“Good God you’re ugly!” Robert said catching the General’s foot and twisting. As the two struggled, they suddenly heard the voice of Brian above the tumult of the shouting, gunshots, screams, and fire:
“Yee haw! She’s gonna blow!”
He had ignited a rag set to the gunpowder barrel after placing several other barrels around it. The settlers who were not engaging the British soldiers freed their loved ones from the cages and made their way to the safety of the swamp covered by the smoke from the fire started by Jack and Mary, which now filled the parade grounds.
“Jack!” Cappy called to her friend waving. Jack had carried Mary to the safety of the swamp and left her in the care of the settlers. He was returning to help his father when he saw her.
“Cappy!” Jack said happily. The two embraced and kissed quickly.
The powder ignited and a ball of fire and smoke shot into the sky. The fire quickly covered the walls of the fort as Jack helped Cappy through the smoke. He saw his dad and the General fighting.
“I’ve got to help dad!” Jack said to Cappy as he helped her across the mote. She nodded as he ran back into the burning building.
Jack jumped back as a burning section of wall fell in front of him. He shielded his face from the flames with his hands and tried to find his way around. He could hear the blows his father and the General exchange and hoped he could get to his father in time.
"No!" Jack yelled as he cleared the burning wall in time to see the General pin his father to the ground. The General had his knife raised. He looked at Jack with an evil skeletal grin and brought the weapon down towards Robert's chest as smoke covered them. The General howled in victory over Jack's dad. He did not realize the blade was stuck in a leg of the chair! Brian had recovered from unconsciousness caused by the explosion just in time to thrust the wood in Robert's hand.
The General stood and started walking towards Jack.
"You!" He glared through the smoke. Jack looked for weapon and picked up a burning piece of wall. "Do you honestly think that a fifteen year old boy or a middle aged Indian can stop General Towen? I overcame the Swamp Fox! I overcame the Indians! I overcame the quicksand! I have been victorious over death itself for over two centuries!" He laughed hysterically at the sight of Jack holding the burning weapon.
"Take your best shot boy!" He said.
"Set hut!" Robert yelled through the smoke. The General spun around as Robert swung the chair leg at his head. The blow sent the British soldier to the ground.
"Get out of here!" Robert said to his son as he picked up the General’s knife.
"Not without you dad!" Jack said.
"Me either," Brian added coming into view.
"Alright then," Robert agreed. "Let's end this,” He hit the General with the chair leg once more as the solider tried to rise then pinned him on the ground with his knees. He raised the knife to deliver the deathblow when Towen called out:
"Wait," the General said as his eyes widened. "I remember you! That Indian village and the man huddled over his wife and son. But that's impossible."
"No," Robert said with the weapon raised high. "My spirit survived. You may have killed my wife, and son, but you only wounded me." The General struggled as Robert kept him pinned to the ground with his knees on his shoulders.
"Dad?" Jack called. "Don't! Let's just get out of here."
"My name is Flying Owl," Robert said aloud as he allowed the spirit of his ancestor to control him. "The Great Spirit allowed me to come back in my offspring to set right what was made wrong long ago!"
"No!" the General screamed.
"Robert!" Brian called. "Don't do this," He said as he stood by Jack.
"He raped my wife while I was out hunting. He killed my son then her.," the spirit said angrily.
"When I returned he tied me to the center poll of my lodge and set it ablaze." Robert looked around crazily. "It was much like this one. I still remember the heat and pain of those flames. However, I escaped. I called on the shawmen to join with me and send you and your British scoundrels to a place where they would be tormented for all eternity."
"When I died I learned you were still alive, held here in the River. I watched you and waited. I longed for the day when I would be able to avenge my wife and son. But I see now," he said looking at the General's ghastly appearance. "The Great Spirit heard my prayers. You have been tormented here in this river. Tormented by all the evil you have done and will forever do because you are the evil itself." Robert flipped the knife in the air and caught it by the handle as the blade tip reached the General's nose. "But I will end this evil now!" He hissed. He raised the knife into the air holding the General's head to the ground.
"Dad!" Jack cried as Brian held him. "Please, don't!" For a moment, Robert looked at his son. His facial expression had taken on the image of the spirit who had controlled him.
"Son," he said. The spirit regained control of Robert's body and began chanting. In the distraction, the General reached up with his legs and put them around Robert's chest. With all his effort, he pulled the man off him and rolled out of the way.
"You should have killed me while you had the chance!" the General screamed. "I cannot die! I am immortal!" He started to run laughing hysterically, as Robert regained his footing. The two raced into the smoke out of sight.
“Dad!” Jack called. “Let me go Brian!”
“No!” Brian said holding on to Jack’s shoulders. “Don’t you see this something greater than you or I? God will not have things continue to go unchecked in His universe Jack!” He said above the flames. “He will make things right!” Jack looked into Brian’s eyes angrily.
“I want my dad!” He said. At that moment, the two heard a blood curling scream come from the direction of the torture cabin. They looked at each other and raced through the smoke.
When they saw him, Robert was himself again. He was standing over a burning section of wall holding the General’s knife in his hand. He looked at the flames until Jack put his hand in the hand of his father.
“Dad,” he asked softly.
“It’s okay son,” His father replied. “I chased him back here, and I was about to throw the knife at him when the wall fell.” He coughed as the smoke burned his lungs. “Let’s get out of here.” The three turned from the burning remains of the General and made their way out the fort.


CHAPTER ELEVEN


Night had fallen and the settlers stood gathered around the base of a mound of earth listening to Robert explain what had happened and what he needed to do. He also told the captives of the river what his plan would mean for them. The fort had burnt to the ground and the only remains of General Towen were the ridding whip and his hand that a settler had found and promptly brought to Robert.
“I don’t understand,” Jack started as they burnt the hand and whip. “If the General is dead then why are we still here?”
“The General was only the reason this gateway and universe ever came into being. Flying Owl and the other Shawmen directed the power who created it.” Robert said.
“But you’re no shaman,” Fran objected as they stood together. “How could you even begin to to close this gate?”
“I’ve been in training,” Robert said with a smile. He opened a leather bag and let the Looking Stone fall into his hand. Mary smiled as he said, “I think you dropped this.”
He turned to the river, held up the stone and said, “Looking stone, show us Charles Blackfoot.” The middle of the stone grew cloudy and then the people gasped as they saw the Pee Dee Indian and several others on the other side gathered around a campfire chanting. The shaman instantly felt the presence of the Woodles and smiled.
“Charles and his friends are praying for the Great Spirit to close the gateway that’s been opened on their side of the river,” Robert explained to the crowd below him. “In a moment I will start to pray. You will be taken back to the moment you entered the river and all of this will seem like a vague dream,” He watched the settler’s expressions. “Are you ready?” He asked. Some said yes, others just hugged their loved ones for the last time.
Wait,” Jack said to his father. “There’s something I’ve got to do,” Robert looked at him questioningly then smiled understandingly as he saw the Freeman family standing huddled together. “Okay, son,” he said. “But you don’t have long.” Jack nodded and walked towards the Freemans. For a moment, the four embraced and wiped tears from their eyes.
“I don’t know how I can ever repay you,” Jack began as he hugged Soho.
“Just don’t forget me,” she said sweetly. “You are a good son.” She added.
“A black president,” Brian said thoughtfully as he and Jack hugged. “I guess I’m going to have to wait a few years to see him.” He said with a smile.
“It’ll seem like no time,” Jack said. “Thanks for not giving up on me,” He added.
“It’s the least I could do for my boy,” Brian said. “Remember Jack Woodle, You’re also a Freeman.” He added. Jack smiled in response.
He came to Cappy and wiped a tear from her eye. “I don’t know what to say,” Jack started.
“All my life has been spent in this river,” Cappy said looking at her parents. “I don’t want to lose you or my family. You promised me you would not leave! I’m scared to go back and start over,”
“I know,” Jack said. “I believe that God is going to work this thing out for you Cappy. You’ll get to have the life you were meant to live before the River brought you here.”
“But what if this is the life I was meant to live?” Cappy asked. “What if you are the man I’m meant to love?” She added.
“I believe,” Jack, said looking at her then his family. “I believe that if it’s God’s will for you and me to be together then we will be together. I don’t know a lot about him, but I’m going to learn. I love you Cappy,” he added and they kissed briefly.
“Son,” Robert called. “It’s time.”
Jack left Cappy standing with her family and walked towards his own. He hugged his mom closely and looked at the family he had grown to know in the River. Robert Woodle closed his eyes and raised his hands as his family crowded around him. He began to chant in the same ancient language that Charles Blackfoot and those gathered with him were. The wind began to blow and the river began to grow choppy. The water started swirling, and Jack thought he could hear the chants of hundreds of people along with the beating of Indian drums and crackle of campfires. As the noise intensified, he watched the settlers slowly start fading from view. The last image that Jack saw was the Freeman family smiling at him then slowly dissolving away. He felt his mother and sister’s grip let go. Jack found himself floating in cold black water.
Jack opened his eyes as his dad lifted him out of the chilly water of the Pee Dee.
“Son,” he heard the familiar voice of his father call. Jack felt his father shaking him and realized he was lying on the deck of the boat.
“I’m alright dad,” he said coughing. Jack sat up. “Where am I?” he asked. “Where are we?”
“I came down to the river to join you and saw you at the other end of the island caught in the River. Lucky for you I happened to have the key to the boat with me. I thought you were a goner.”
“Sorry dad,” Jack said. “I forgot safety first.”
“Safety first,” his dad repeated and hugged his son. The two laughed then Jack’s dad turned the boat around and headed back to the island. Jack looked up at the full moon and clear fall sky. It looked strangely familiar to him. He felt like he had been somewhere but he couldn’t remember where.
The next few weeks were uneventful for Jack Woodle and his family. He and his father returned home after their camping trip and related his near drowning experience to his mom and sister. Jack went to school, and continued to play football. His grades greatly improved as well as his sportsmanship. He found a new appreciation for his family and church life. The young man also discovered an interest in Native American culture that he never had before. The Woodles made several trips to the Pee Dee Indian reservation where Jack enjoyed meeting Soho Blackfoot and her husband Charles.
The only problem he had were his dreams. He kept seeing ghostly faces and events he felt he should have known but could not remember.
As Jack sat in church with his family one Sunday morning, he kept noticing a brown haired young girl. He asked his sister if she knew the girl, but Mary shook her head and whispered, “If I did, I wouldn’t put her through the torment of knowing you.” She smiled and hugged her brother. “Just kidding,” she said as her mother motioned for them to keep quiet. After the service, Jack asked his mother about them.
“That’s a new family son.” His mother said. “They just moved here from Ohio I think.”
“I’ve been meaning to introduce myself to them,” Robert said as he noticed his son’s interest in the young woman standing by her parents. “Want to come with me?” Jack looked up at his dad and smiled. The two made their way through the exiting crowd and introduced themselves.
“I’m Joe Hammer,” The tall father of the young girl said. “This is my wife Jackie, and my daughter Cathy.” Jack smiled at the family and shook their hands. He noticed a book in Cathy’s purse and asked her about it.
“Oh, it’s nothing really,” she started. “It’s a book on botany.”
“Tree’s right?” Jack said as Cathy handed the book to him. He opened it and saw the picture of the author. His name was Brian Freeman. He was a black professor from Stanford University. The profile of the author said he was married with two children. A girl named Cappy and a boy named Jack.
“Plants actually,” Cathy, said taking the book back. “I’m fascinated by the outdoors.”
“Me too,” Jack said. “My family goes camping all the time down by the river,” He nodded at his father who indicated it was time to go. “Hey,” he called as Cathy and her family walked down the steps towards their car. “Maybe you and your family would like to go camping with us some time.” Cathy smiled at Jack’s offer as she started to get into the white SUV.
“That would be really nice,” she said with a smile. Jack started following his dad to the family’s truck when he felt a piece of paper slip into his hand. He looked down and then back at Cathy who smiled at him.
“Call me sometime,” she said and ran back to her family. Jack got into the family truck and turned the piece of paper over in his hand repeatedly.
“If it’s meant to be it will be,” he heard whisper through his mind repeatedly. He thought about the young girl, and smiled. “Who knows?” he said quietly as he slipped the paper into his pocket. When Jack walked into his room,
he felt he had a revelation of what his dreams meant. He raced to the computer and sat down. The young man quickly opened his internet browser and typed in Stanford University. He pulled up the faculty list, saw the picture of Brian Freeman, and smiled. “Dad,” he called.
“What’s up son?” his dad asked after coming into the room.
“You remember me telling you about my dreams?” Jack asked. His dad sat on his son’s bed and tossed a baseball from hand to hand.
“Yeah,” his father said. Jack moved and let his father see the image on the screen.
“This guy was in my dreams. So was the girl I met today.”
Robert Woodle shook his head. “Maybe you saw her at school. She is very pretty. You might have seen his picture in one of the library books you read.”
“Come on dad,” Jack said. “I’m going to e-mail Professor Freeman and see if he knows us.”
“You might want to think about it son, I’m sure that professor is really busy.”
Jack ignored his dad and started typing an e-mail. It read:
DEAR PROFESSOR FREEMAN. MY NAME IS JACK WOODLE. I’M FIFTEEN YEARS OLD AND LIVE IN MARION SOUTH CAROLINA. I WOULD LOVE TO TALK WITH YOU BECAUSE I FEEL LIKE WE’VE MET BEFORE.
Jack stopped writing and thought about deleting the message. His finger hesitated then went to the mouse and he clicked the send button.
The following Tuesday Jack was sitting under a pine tree eating his lunch when Cathy walked up to him.
“Hi,” she said. “Can I sit with you?”
“Sure,” Jack said and patted the ground. “You want to share a ham sandwich?” He asked.
“No thanks,” Cathy said. “I’ve got some deer soup my dad made.” She produced the Tupperware bowl and smiled. “You want some?”
Jack seemed to remember having tasted the soup before. “I’d love a bite.” He said. He watched Cathy pull a spoon from her lunch bag and open the bowl. She was dressed in a simple blue flower patterned dress. Her long brown hair waved gently in the afternoon breeze. She put the soup to Jack’s lips and he took a sip.
“It’s delicious,” Jack, said letting the flavor rest on his tongue before he took a sip of Pepsi.
Cathy took a sip of Jack’s Pepsi after she had a bite of her lunch.
“Have you ever felt like you’ve known someone before?” Jack asked.
“No,” Cathy said after thinking a moment.
“Maybe it’s crazy,” Jack said. “But I feel like we’ve met.”
Cathy looked at Jack for a moment and took another sip of soup. “Now that you mention it,” she said. “Maybe we have.” The two spent the rest of lunch and many more getting to know each other.
Football season passed quickly and the Marion County Red Foxes finished third in the league. Jack received a reward as the most improved player. Cathy, her family, and his own were there supporting Jack the whole way. Robert Woodle continued to develop his friendship with the Blackfoot family and invited them to Thanksgiving Day dinner. Jack never received an e-mail back from Professor Freeman, even though he sent many.
When Thanksgiving dinner arrived, the Woodles, Hammers, and Blackfoot families gathered around a huge dinning table set up in the Woodles’ backyard. As Robert prepared to give thanks, he paused as a white Cadillac parked in the family driveway. Everyone turned to see a tall black man dressed in a dark blue suit, get out and open the passenger door for a petite young black woman. She wore a long brown dress and church hat.
Robert smiled at his son Jack who looked questioningly at his father.
“Everyone I would like to introduce to you Brian and Felicia Freeman,” Robert said as the couple approached. “Brian is. . .”
“The professor of botanical studies at Stanford University,” Cathy said smiling.
“It’s a pleasure to meet each of you,” Brian said helping his wife sit down at the table. “Mister Woodle, thank you so much for your invitation.” The professor shook hands with everyone then sat with his wife.
“I never thought I’d hear from you,” Jack said after the blessing and meal began.
“I apologize, Jack,” Brian answered. “Along with my work at the University I’ve been promoting my book and doing a lecture series. Your father’s invitation here is why we came, since we happened to be at Myrtle Beach for the holidays. I understand you think we’ve met before?”
“Yes sir,” he said hesitantly. “Well, not really. It’s almost like I’ve seen you in my dreams.”
Everyone stopped and looked at Jack with a worried expression. “It’s like I’ve known all of you before. Well, I mean you professor, Cathy, and Mrs. Blackfoot. I feel like we have shared something special together. We were in another place, another time.” Jack looked down and played with his food at the acquired silence, which followed. “I’m sorry,” He muttered.
“No Jack,” Cathy said. “I feel it too.” She smiled.
“I feel that way about Charles,” Robert admitted. His friend smiled and nodded in agreement.
“I must admit,” Brian said thoughtfully. “You do look familiar to me. Maybe we have had some sort of out of body experience, or before-life event.”
“Maybe it was just an accidental meeting,” Brian’s wife said. “You might have met Brian at an airport or one of his book signings, or in the mall.”
“Maybe,” Jack agreed. “Maybe it was a river,”
“Yeah,” Cathy said. “A river. . .”
The families thoughtfully spent the rest of their meal together. As they were preparing to close Brian raised a glass for a toast, “Here’s to accidental meetings,” He said with a smile. “Yes, to accidental meetings!” Everyone joined the toast.
“And here’s to friendships that were always meant to be!” Jack said. “Here, here!” The families agreed. Their glasses clinked together in agreement, as Jack smiled at Cathy.
After they finished eating and cleaning up the Thanksgiving Day meal, the men went to watch the Thanksgiving Day football game, while the women went to the sitting room to talk. Mary left to go off with her boyfriend Kyle, and Jack and Cathy went for a walk by the creek below the family farm. For a few minutes they walked hand in hand listing to the bubbling water and birds singing in the trees. Sunlight streamed through the brakes in the tree line warming the couple.
“Were you telling the truth?” Jack asked as he helped Cathy sit on a bolder overlooking the creek.
“About what,” Cathy asked as Jack sat beside her.
“Feeling like we’ve meet before,” Jack asked. He looked at the river. “Cathy, I felt like I’ve known you for years.”
“I feel that way about you too Jack,” she said as the breeze caused the ruffle of her red dress to flap gently. She smoothed it out and started playing with her hair.
Jack leaned over and gently pressed his lips against hers. He pulled back and looked at her.
“I’m sorry,” he started. “I don’t know what came over me.”
Cathy looked at Jack and smiled. “It’s okay,” she said and kissed him back. “I know this is the first time we’ve kissed, but I felt like we’ve done it before.”
Jack ran his hand through Cathy’s hair and touched her cheek.
“Cappy?” he asked. “I called you Cappy, didn’t I?”
“I don’t know,” Cathy said. “Maybe you did. What does it matter Jack? We are right here, right now together. And isn’t that all that matters?” She put her hand on his and smiled.
“I guess you’re right,” Jack said looking at the sparkling creek. “I guess some things and some people were meant to be.”
“And if they’re not like they’re suppose to be, God will work it all out.” Cathy added. Jack smiled at his girlfriend and the two sat on the bolder watching the creek gently flow to the Great Pee Dee River, which flowed to the Atlantic Ocean.


THE END.

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Texte: Copyrighted 2010 Lee Family Publications All Rights Reserved.
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 07.02.2010

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