After a tasteless breakfast Draino called to Natty, “Where from?” holding up bits of tin-foil, from the fire-pit. The old man walked over to see what Draino was holding and replied, “Good man, Good man use!” These bits of foil looked relatively new to Draino, yet were decades old. The old man pointed to a small storage hut, near the main house. Tosh grabbed his hand and tried pulling him over to the hut that had been used to store fish, dried animals, grains, nuts, and the horrible potato root staple he hated. Tosh had been forbidden to hang out there, and wanted desperately to see what was in there, besides food?
“Com, com,” said Tosh. Draino ignored the boy. “Oh, you mean God man, you mean priest!” asked Draino, standing his ground, astonished at hearing this news, while Tosh annoyingly tried pulling at his arm. He kept looking back at the witch doctor, waiting for a reply. But he could see that the old man hadn’t a clue, what he was on about. He reluctantly let Tosh pull him across the clearing, stopping to say, “Where God man?” he asked sharply, again to the old man. “Where now?”
Tosh ran skipping excitedly ahead to the hut. Draino reluctantly followed him inside. Natty stayed in the entrance way. When his eyes adjusted to the light, Tosh was feverishly pulling apart smooth stones from what looked to be a cache of some sort. Draino leaned over the boy and saw the edge of a big suitcase appearing under the river stones. When he saw that, his interest peaked! Tosh pulled it free of its hiding place and stood up looking pleased with himself.
Draino, messed up his hair, smiling down at the happy child. Tosh helped him kneel in front of the suitcase. The snaps were rusted, but were not locked, and when he lifted the lid, the case was jammed with clothing, papers and money. Rapped in old well-used plastic, was a King James English bible. “No water!” cried Natty from the door way. “Ya, no water, whatever the fuck that means?” repeated Draino. Natty, indigent looking, stepped in, forcing them aside, with his out stretched arm. He mumbled something over the stash, then reached over and took the Bible from Draino’s hand.
“Ya nice,” said Draino, “it’s all yours.”
“Zeezus,” mumble Natty.
“Where God man now?” Natty pointed to the sky. But Draino thought he meant in the huts rafters and looked up into them. Natty, shook his head no, and pointed out the door to the sky. “Zeezus,” said Natty. “Ah” said Draino. “Dead, with fucking Jesus!” “Zeezus,” repeated Natty nodding. “Ya, Zeezus,” repeated Draino. “Like fucken Coca Cola, can’t get away from the shit,” said Draino. Natty held out the Bible to Draino, catching him off guard, and they both fumbled with it, and it dropped to the earth floor. Natty jumped back, like it was going to explode. Draino bent over to pick it up but his cast restricted him. Tosh, lifted it into Draino’s hand. “I don’t really want the fucking thing,” he mumbled under his breath.
A section fell out, along with a passport. He thought because of its age it fell out. But when Tosh retrieved it, he noticed it was deliberately and carefully cut out, and the binding re-glued. It was now a book within a book. ‘From Romans to Philemon,’ he whispered under his breath, leafing through the little booklet. Angrily remembering his childhood. “Now this is sacrilege!” he said to anyone listening; holding out the cut-up Bible.
Draino knew enough that the booklet was all of Paul’s main letters to the Gentile. And the rest of the Bible was for the Jew only. But why would a minister of God do such a thing? It was obvious that Natty wouldn’t come near Draino while he held the book. Dropping it on the floor, to Natty was sacrilege, even if he hadn’t a clue what it said. But he did know some things in it and knew its power. ‘Zeezus,’ Draino thought. ‘This priest must have made quite an impression on him.’ He held the book out to Natty and he jumped back.
Draino was impressed with the old man’s speed and agility. Some part of him wanted to terrorize Natty with the Bible. However, something in him stopped him. It was a first for Draino, to consider another’s feelings. Which confused him. Draino didn’t equate the man with saving his life. He stuffed the little book, back in where it belonged, then stepped out into the sun, to further examine it.
“To my dearest son, love Mother,” was inscribed under the cover, and a picture of a woman and a young man, almost slipped out from between the pages. He fanned through the pages to see if there was anything else. He assumed it was the young priest and his mother. A creased and dogeared, handwritten piece of paper fell out. “For I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ: for it is the power of God unto salvation to everyone that believeth; to the Jew first, and to the Gentile.” Roma 1:16. “Fucking horse shit!” he mumbled.
Returning into the hut, he lifted the rickety case out into the sun, bracing the underneath to keep it from falling apart. The passport with a beleaguered face of an middle-aged man looked out at him from a long ago light. Seth Richards, was his name, an American. The only stamp in it read, Brazil. Draino let go a huge sigh of relief, after seeing this. ‘They took me all the way to fucking Brazil, just to rot!’ ‘But where in Brazil?’ he thought. ‘The river must be the Amazon then, or one of its thousands of tributaries?’ ‘No matter,’ he thought, ‘for they all flow to the Atlantic.’
The yellowed letters were introductions to various Protestant Churches. ‘Wow, this guy must have been good, to beat the fucken Jesuits here?’ he thought. Draino, held the image of Seth Richards up to Natty. His eyes opened wide to busting. He just stood there, stoned faced, in shock to see the man’s image after so long, and in Draino’s hand. He then let out a weird scream and ran off into the jungle. The old woman looked out seconds later and leaving everything followed him. Draino and Tosh both watched them run off in disbelief, until Draino flashed the photograph to Tosh.
Although too young to know the face, the boy stepped back, pointing at the picture in horror. “No, no Tosh,” said Draino softly. “Just a picture, no worry!” he said, hoping the child wouldn’t run off as well. Tosh came closer, to look again, but very cautiously. Draino held out the picture, flicking it in the air to show the boy it wasn’t harmful or something to be afraid of. Here was a man holding the face of a disembodied man in his hand. It was mind boggling to Tosh. Then he meanly shoved the photograph quickly out to towards Tosh, which sent him stepping back a few feet, and sent Draino laughing.
If it was a ploy on Draino’s part, it worked. The mean trick and embarrassment, made Tosh angry. Angry enough to over come his fear and take the passport in his hand and examine it. “See? Its nothing. Just a stupid picture!” “Picture?” repeated Tosh. “Like this,” holding up a leaf. “Nothing!” Sending it floating to the ground. Tosh handed back the pass-port nonchalantly, and repeated, “Nothing.”
What interested Draino were the travelers’ checks, and thirteen hundred in cash. And a full box of 22 caliber bullets, that looked in good shape still. But no gun! There was also a return ticked to Boston dated 1962. ‘Fuck, this guy really missed his flight home’. Underwear and socks, two white shirts that might have fit him, and a pair of dress pants, riddled with mold. Comb, watch, and toiletries. When he saw the nail clippers, be began cutting his nails on the spot, that were starting to look like claws.
The two body guards ran in from the jungle so quickly they both had no time to think. Draino began to rise, as one stepped over and threatened him with a spear. They could hardly look at him, they were so fearful of him. They then proceeded to drag off Tosh, complaining, into the woods. Draino could make out enough words to understand they thought he was a spirit man, or demon come to life. They had no idea how close to the truth they were. He could hear Tosh calling, “Cane, Cane, “from deep within in the jungle. Suddenly, Draino was totally alone, for the first time. If he thought a day was bad in the jungle, night terrified him.
Again, for the second time in his life, Draino thought of another’s safety, rather than his own. He began to worry for Tosh, besides himself. Then relaxed a bit, when he realized they had come to save Tosh, not harm him. When he lifted the last of the clothing out, there in a compartment, was a machete. He rose to his feet waving the large steel blade around, screaming “Yes, yes, yes! I’ll build a raft!”, he screamed to the jungle. “Fuck you!” he said to the jungle. “I’ll build a fucking raft outta ya!” He pulled the machete from its sheath and checked it for damage, and the edge for sharpness, marvelling at its strength, and long shape. The evil old Draino, began to rise from the ashes.
Thinking of the dark night looming ahead, and maybe having to spend a night alone, his priority was to make a door. He was tired of having to be locked in at night. Regardless, if it was for his own protection, and their peace of mind. Tosh had told him about the various plants and trees, and their uses, and names. He knew exactly where to find strong poles, and vine used for tying. He wasn’t so afraid to enter the woods with a weapon and went straight to a stand of tough pole-like vines. He hacked joyfully away at their roots, until even the sharp blade had trouble penetrating the hard, heavy wood. And he quickly began running out of steam.
Slowly one by one they began stacking up on the ground. He started pacing himself and was learning where to aim the blade for better penetration. He quickly saw that chopping down big trees for a raft was going to be quite an undertaking. He dropped all his materials in front of his hut. He used one pole to measure the opening and made them a few inches longer. The mud huts were hard as concrete, so no hinges were going to work. He was going to have to place the door inside, braced some how. The vines were supposed to be soaked, then pounded on rocks, to make strong cordage, but he hadn’t the time. He just wove the vines, as is, which made for a crude but strong temporary door. He tried it out and it was going to work fine. He felt it safe enough to protect him from the jungle, all he had to do now was measure and cut strong thicker poles for bracing.
It was nearing twilight when he had finished, and he was hungry. He checked out the main hut that he had never been invited into and felt a little guilty poking around. The fire had burned down, but she had been preparing something that looked like granola. He grabbed the bowl and rounded up some of the strange fruit he liked. He looked around, thinking that Natty would understand, especially when he came to his senses.
Then he noticed a rifle butt, stuffed into a dried grass matt, hanging on the wall. He pulled it out, it was the 22 that matched the bullets he’d found earlier. It needed cleaning badly, and he wondered if it was even safe to fire anymore. He stuffed it back in, just as he had found it and left. Draino wondered why Natty even kept it? The man didn’t even know what it was for, and that he had the bullets for it.
He rushed back and took an oil light from the main hut, blowing on the fire embers, and lighting the wick. He carefully shaded it with his hands, walking back. The creepy night sounds began to build to their usual crescendo, while he started to prop up the door. Noticing the gaps between poles, he tore it down and ran to get a straw blanket to use as a curtain, to keep the animals from seeing him, and him them. He jammed the poles against the door and proudly looked at his handy work. It was nice having light, even if it was weak. It was better that sitting in the dark listening to night sounds and waiting for sleep. He went through the suitcase again and pulled out the Bible. Not for his soul, but for something to do. He opened it to Genesis, and read, “In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.” Draino looked outside at the darkening star lit jungle, and fully comprehended the passage for the first time.
Dan Ger
