Mungus: Book 1 (18 page)

“What’s wrong?” I asked.  I sat up and looked at Saul.  Big tears were running down his face.

“We stole, Walt, that’s what’s wrong.”

“But we were hungry!  We were going to die!”

Saul shook his head.  “That doesn’t matter, we stole and stealing is wrong.”

“But we had too.  Anyone would have done the same thing.”

Saul blubbered.  “It doesn’t matter what
anyone
would have done.  We’re not them.  Stealing is wrong.”

Saul picked up the uneaten loaf and stood up. 

“Where are you going?” I asked.

He started to walk away and said over his shoulder, “to give that man his bread back.”

I sprang onto my feet and rushed out in front of him.  I put my hands on his stomach to stop him and he looked down at me.  “Can we please just talk about this?” I asked.  “What if he catches you?  What if he kills you?”

“I shouldn’t have stolen,” Saul said, and walked right through me.

I ran up in front of him and again tried to block his way.  “Saul, listen to me!  This is silly.  That guy has a brick oven, and inside, I bet that he has loads of other food.  He didn’t need that.”

Saul walked on.

I ran up ahead of him and stopped him once again.  “Please, okay.  You’re right.  We were wrong.  I have a compromise.  I’ll give the bread back.”

Saul stopped and considered.

“Listen Saul, I took the bread, I should be the one to take it back.  I’ll run to the house, put it on the back porch, and run back.  He will get his loaf back, and we won’t get in any kind of danger.”

“But what about the other loaf?”

I shook my head.  “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing that we can do about the other loaf.  It’s gone.  We can only make this as right as returning this one piece.”

“And do you promise not to steal anymore?”

“I promise.”

Saul handed me the piece of bread.  “How will I know that you do it?”

“I will, you have my word.  But if you want to, you can watch me from the bush that you stayed at last time.”

“What if he chases you?”

“Don’t worry.  He couldn’t catch me if he tried.  He has a bad limp and needs a cane.”  I paused.  “But if something
does
happen to me, although I don’t think that it will, you have to promise me something.”

“What’s that?”

“That you don’t come after me.”

Saul shook his head.  “I don’t think that I can do that.”

“Please, Saul.  Just promise.  There’s no way he’s going to catch me.”

Saul looked up into the tops of the trees and considered.  Finally, he said, “Okay, I promise.”

So Saul went and got down behind the bushes and I tip toed to the edge of the forest.  With the loaf under my arm like a football, I looked around the back yard of the house.  There was no movement.  The shades were drawn at the house and the dog was snoring in its cage.

I made a break for it.  I sprinted in a straight line for the back porch, my legs kicking just as they had those nights under the moon.  The dog jumped up and began to bark in its cage.  I didn’t stop, but kept on digging my feet over the grass.  Just as I was about to reach the back porch the back door flung open, startling me so much that I dropped the loaf on the lawn.  The red haired Beardsley stepped out looking angry.  He held a rope in his right hand and he began to swing it round his head.  The top of the rope made an oval as he swung it; it was a lasso.  I slid to a stop and tried to move my momentum towards the other direction when I saw the rope loop over my head and then felt it tighten around my torso.  I tried to struggle, but was brought to the ground.  The red haired man, although short, was thick and had incredible strength.  He tugged me towards him relentlessly and soon I was inside the little home and the doors were locked to the outside.

The man picked me up and placed me on a wooden chair beside his kitchen table.  Despite my thrashing, he managed to get me tied up and soon I wasn’t able to move.  He grabbed a rope and began to tie me to the chair.  He stood up over me and looked down at my face, his beard dangling in front of me.  Once I was tied down and the fight was over I grew frightened.  The man standing over me had complete power to do whatever he wanted to do with me.  My eyes began to water and I resorted to the only option that I was left with.

“Please don’t kill me, sir, please.  I beg you not to kill me!  I’m a good boy, I really am.  I’m so sorry.  Please have mercy on me!”

“If you’re such a good boy, then why did you take my bread?  What did you take, two loafs?”  The man’s teeth were yellow and crooked in his mouth.  His voice was low and gruff.

“I was so hungry.  I was starving.”

“What do yer mean, you was starvin’?”

“I mean I was starving.  I hadn’t eaten in days.  I was going to die.”

“Why hadn’t you eaten in days?” the man asked me.

I didn’t know if I should tell him about Glen’s farm, and I was too flustered to think of another story.  My eyes danced around the room looking for an option.

“Ain’t no one here te’ help you, son,” the man said.  “Ye’ might as well just come out with it.”

And so I told him.  I told him about the farm and Glen and about how we were beaten.  I gave him a brief outline of events leaving out specifics.  Instead of telling him our escape story I just told him that we escaped and left it at that.  I left out killing Glen for my image’s sake, and I left out the part about the
haboons because it would have sounded too unbelievable coming out of my mouth and I didn’t want him to discredit the rest of my story.  When I was done, the kitchen was quiet except for the ‘tic-toc’ of a wooden clock on the wall and the man stared out the window.

“So ye’ were hungry, right?  That’s why ye’ took the food, to try to keep alive?”

I nodded.

“If that’s the case, and ye’ took two loafs to begin with, what were you coming back here for more then?  Were ye’ still
starvin’ after scarfin’ down both loafs?”

I shook my head defiantly.  “No!  That’s not what happened.  I wasn’t coming back to get more food.  I ate the first loaf and then felt bad about it.  Stealing your food made me feel guilty.  So I came back here after I ate the first one and I was going to set the other loaf that I took on your back porch.”

The man paused and gazed out the window once more.  “If that’s so,” he said.  “Then where is the other loaf?  I thought yer’ was bringin’ it?”

“I dropped it when you lassoed me.  It’s on the grass out there.”

The man looked at me sideways.  “Don’t lie to me, boy.  I’m being nice.  Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying,” I said.  “Go look.”

The man picked up his cane and limped over to the back door.  He unlocked it, opened it, and limped out.  I closed my eyes and hoped that a stray animal hadn’t taken the loaf or a bird hadn’t swooped down and seized it.  When the man returned, he had a big smile on his face and the loaf of bread in his hand.  “Ye’ were telling the truth!” he said.  He limped over to me with a big smile on his face and tears on his eyes.  He bent down and wrapped his arms around me in embrace.  He stunk, but I accepted it.  I was still his prisoner and I didn’t want to do anything to upset him.

He stood up straight and began to untie me.  “Thank you
fer’ being honest.”

“Oh, yeah,” I said.  “Of course.”

When I was untied I stood up.  He put a hand on my shoulder and looked me in the eyes.  “If you and yer’ friend are still hungry, come over for dinner.  Come around sun down, I’ll have some food for ye’.  Good meats and things.”

“What friend?” I asked.

The man gave a sly smile and said, “Now yer’ lyin’.  My name is Burl by the way.”

He put it out his hand.  “Walt,” I said, and shook it.

“Now run along and if yer’ hungry at dinner, come by.”

I told Burl goodbye and ran out of there.  When I came upon Saul he was sitting behind a tree and crying.  “Walt?” he asked.  “How are you alive?”

I sat down beside him, hugged him, and told him the whole story.  “And then,” I said.  “The man offers to have us over for dinner.”

“How does he know about me?” Saul asked.

“I have no idea.  But anyway, the point is, I’m not having dinner with a strange man who apprehended me and tied me up!” I said defiantly.

Time went on though and Saul and I talked through it.  We were truly out of food with no way to get any more, we had been on our own for over a week, and we needed help.  “He was just trying to protect his food, he’s not a bad guy.”

“I guess that you’re right,” I said.  I was twisting the top to one of the canteens on and off.  “And I told him that we were wanted and he didn’t try to turn me in.”

We thought it over and by the time that night fell we were knocking on the front door of Burl’s house.

13

Burl

              “Come in, come in,” Burl said.  He smiled with his yellow teeth and shut the door behind us.  “I was beginning to wonder if you two was goin’ to show up.  It’s good to see you, Walt.  And what is yer name?”  Burl said putting a hand out to shake Saul’s.

             
“Saul Higgins,” he replied, and their thick hands met and shook.

             
“Good, good,” said Burl.  “It’s nice to meet yer.”  Burl picked up his cane and limped over to the table.  “Yer places are already set, just come and sit down.”

             
I looked at the kitchen table and saw that there were already three plates out; each filled with a slab of beef, mashed potatoes, and bread.  Glasses of milk sat behind the plates and napkins and silverware were laid out appropriately.  A thick candle sat at the center of the table casting a flickering yellow hue over the wood.  His preparations broke my heart.  The man had been so excited about having company.  He probably didn’t see too many people, living out in the woods.  It upset me to think that we almost hadn’t shown up.

             
“This looks great,” Saul said as we sat down.

             
Burl didn’t answer, but only nodded.  He was busy forking away at his meal, throwing potatoes and beef into his mouth with a passion.  Saul looked at me with a huge smile on his face, and then looked back at the eating wild man.  It was like watching a dog eat.  Saul and I didn’t say anything, and Burl finished his plate before we had even taken bites of ours.  When he was done he picked up his plate and licked his tongue over it.  He licked all of the juices off and then looked at us curiously.  “What are ye’ waitin’ for, dig in.”

             
Saul and I obeyed.  We began to eat our food while Burl got up and dished himself seconds from hot pots and pans that sat on the stove.  The food was great, it was the best meal that I had had since I had eaten Pitri’s cooking; maybe even better.  The beef was tender and seasoned with various greens and herbs; the mashed potatoes still had the skin in them with cheeses mixed in.

             
Burl sat down and began to eat his second plate.  After eating his first helping of mashed potatoes, beef, and bread, he ate slow enough to allow him to talk.  “How do you like it?” he asked.

             
“Very good,” I said.

             
Saul just gave Burl a thumbs up and a smile.

             
“Great,” Burl said.  “Not many people try my cooking but me and Snuggles.”

             
“Who’s snuggles?” Saul asked.

             
Burl’s eyes lit up.  “Snuggles is my pride and joy.  She’s my little puppy.”

             
My eyebrows furrowed.  I thought of the dog’s angry eyes and the way its black hair spiked up on the back of its neck when it saw me.  That wasn’t a puppy.

             
Burl turned to us.  “So, Walt told me some of your story, but tell me the rest.  How did you guys end up on that farm?  What happened there?  How did ye’ escape?”

             
Saul took the lead and began to tell the story through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.  He didn’t spare any details.

             
“He put a gun in your mouth?” said Burl in disbelieve.

             
Saul nodded.  “Yeah, he did!  He even kicked me in the face!”

             
Burl clenched his fist.  “Damned them!” he said.  “They are the most selfish people!”

             
“Do you want to see where they whipped me?” Saul asked.

             
“They whipped ye’?  For what?”

             
“One of the guards was hitting me and I tried to block his punches.  I didn’t know.”

             
“Yeah, lemme’ see.”

             
Saul stood up, turned around, and pulled up the back of his shirt.  I hadn’t seen his back in days.  Thick red lines of scar tissue ran down his torso.  He was going to have scars there for the rest of his life.