Spirit Pouch (38 page)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Death By Fire

“Wait
,” I say.  “I must say goodbye to my White brother.”  I open my arms and lean over to Ty, patting him on the back.  With my best slight of hand I slip the spirit pouch into his back pocket.  “Tell Mom that I love her,” I whisper in his ear.  I see Medicine Eagle look at me and then at Ty’s back pocket, but he says nothing.  Ty, however figures out what I put in his pocket and his face transforms into a picture of horror.  “No!” he yells.  “I just found you.  You can’t do this!”

Black Hawk pulls us apart.

“It needs a personal item.  Ring. Picture. Anything,” I say as we separate.

Chief Four Bears waves his hand and the warriors force Ty toward the center of the village.  I follow with Black Hawk tightly gripping my arm.  I see several warriors work to build two fire pits.  They drive a pole into the ground of each pit, then they lash Ty with his back to the pole, securing his feet, thighs, chest and wrists to the pole with leather bands.  Ty has no chance to fight.  No chance to use his Karate.  He has no chance to live unless he can use the spirit pouch.  They lash me to the next pole facing Ty while I watch them stack generous amounts of dry wood all around Ty.  I am amazed at how fast we became traitors.  I am amazed at how fast they build fire pits.  I am amazed at how fast we will die.

“The U.S. Cavalry will find you,” I shout, seeing Four Bears standing a short way off, watching intently.

“No,” he answers, shaking his head sideways as he walks up to me.  “When ever our warriors are spotted by the cavalry, they lead them away from our village.  Your cavalry keep looking for us in the wrong places.  They will not come.”  He walks away into the shadows.

The warriors stack dry wood around me, and I feel the weight of impending death press against my legs, then my back and then my chest with every additional log.  Above the wood I look outward and see Ty, eyes closed. 
Praying,
I think.

I say my own prayer.  I ask for a miracle.  I ask for protection.  After all, Shadrach, Meshach and Abed-nego were cast in the fiery furnace and were protected.
[95]
  I ask forgiveness, and I try to ask forgiveness for these savage warriors that would burn another live human being.  I am working on this part of my prayer when I hear a murmur from all around.  I open my eyes.

I see Medicine Eagle holding a fiery torch above his head.  He speaks first in the Lakota language to the fire-lit faces of the Sioux people gathered around, then he speaks in English.  “Because these White Men have broken the laws of our people and because they have broken our trust, and by the decree of our Chief, Four Bears, they will suffer death by fire.  They will be taken up to the Great Spirit to answer for their transgression.”

With that, Medicine Eagle touches his torch to the dry tinder and in a few short seconds the hot orange and blue monster of death begins to lick the dry wood, swirling and crawling upward, casting an eerie light through the burning branches upon Ty.

I see Ty struggle, pulling and twisting to get loose, then he screams.  I want desperately to help, and I pull against the leather holding my own wrists.  My bindings do not give, and I know Ty’s won’t either.

“Ty,” I scream, but the smoke makes me cough and my voice does not work.  Then I see his hands, one holding the spirit pouch which he had retrieved from his pocket.  In his other hand is a white piece of paper.  I have seen that paper only once before and I know what it is.  His genealogic fan chart listing his relation to me.  His declaration that we are brothers.  He touches the paper to the spirit pouch and bows his head.

A cloud of smoke and sparks swirl upward and engulf Ty, blocking any view I previously had of him.  All I can see now are flaring flames and swirling smoke.  A white piece of flaming paper twirls upward into the moonlit night sky.

Medicine Eagle pokes at the fire with a long stick, then walks over to me.  Sliding his hand into mine he deposits something hot which burns my fingers in places.  Our eyes meet and in that instant I know what it is that he placed in my hand. 
The spirit pouch!

Medicine Eagle checks the bindings on my feet and legs.  I don’t hardly notice because my mind is racing,  I need a personal item for the spirit pouch and I need it fast.  I saw how quickly the flames ignited this dry wood.  I know that I only have seconds before I am engulfed by fire, and I notice that Medicine Eagle is stalling to give me a few more precious seconds.  I thank God for that.

My bracelet!  My friendship bracelet from Lyn!
  It is surprisingly hard to hold the spirit pouch and pull the bracelet off of my wrist with my wrists tied to the pole.  Luckily my wrists are tied above the bracelet.  Even so, I fumble and almost drop the pouch while Medicine Eagle gives another speech in the Lakota tongue.

All too soon Medicine Eagle finishes talking and touches the deadly flames to the wood.  The hot fire spreads quickly in the faint breeze.  I cough from the smoke and feel the searing heat rapidly rise from the fledgling flames.  I manage to pull open the leather bag and slide the bracelet inside.  I am choking and begin to cough.  I close my eyes.

“I desire …” Cough.  “… to return to …” Cough. Cough.  “… to …” 
Ty returned to the trunk of a burning car out in the desert near the high school.  We will both die in that burning car.  Or die here by fire.

I take a choking, smoke-filled breath.  “I desire to return to my bedroom at home in Arizona fifteen minutes earlier than when I left Arizona,” I say.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Out Of The Frying Pan …

All
is quiet.  I can smell the smoke from the fire, but not gasoline!  There is a noise not too far away.  Kind of a high pitched dull roar.

The vacuum cleaner!
  I open my eyes and see my bed, my window, my room!

“Mom!” I try to yell, coughing mostly.  I dart like a startled cottontail out of my room.  “Mother!”  I run down the hallway.  “Mom!”  I round the corner.  Mother is vacuuming the living room carpet and the noise blocks out my yelling.  I grab the electrical cord and yank it out of the wall socket so hard that it flies across the room and the plug lands on the couch.

“Mom,” I yell through the dying din as the vacuum whirs to a stop.

“Jared,” Mom exclaims.  “Did you do that?  Don’t …”

“Mom,” I yell.  “This is an emergency!”

“Is there a fire?” she smells my shirt.  “You look awful.  Are you okay?”

“Mom.  Listen.  Ty is in trouble.”

“Your friend at school?”

“Yes, Mom.  Listen!  He was taken by Franky at school and forced into the trunk of a car.  Franky has a gun.  They went into the desert.  Franky is going to set the car on fire.  We need to call the police or Ty will burn to death!”

Mom looks at me like all moms do with eyes that search your soul to see if you are lying.

“This is no joke,” I say.  “I am not exaggerating, and you know I would not lie to you.”

Mom stands there holding the vacuum for about two seconds, then jumps into high gear.  “You better not be, son.”  She practically flies to the phone and dials 911.  She explains to the dispatch woman who answers the call every detail she can, then she says, “No I can’t stay on the line.  I am going to the school.  I will talk to the police there.”  She hangs up.

“Come on,” she says grabbing her keys.  “We’ve got a boy to save.”

I don’t ever remember seeing Mom drive so fast.  I think about telling her to slow down so we don’t crash, but she slips past a couple of really slow cars that are actually doing the speed limit and runs one yellow light.  She does pull over briefly when a police car races up behind us.  Then she pulls out and follows it in fast pursuit.

The police car stops by the desert across the street from the high school and Mom pulls up behind him, sliding to a stop in the loose, sandy dirt.

“That’s where they went into the desert, Mom,” I say, pointing to an off-road path leading away from the school.

“Officer,” Mom says ejecting herself from the car.  “I am the one who placed the 911 call.  My son’s friend was forced into the trunk of a car at gun point.  Apparently they drove into the desert right there,” she says pointing to the place I showed her.  “He is going to set the car on fire!”

“Thank you ma’am.  We’ll take it from here,” the policeman says returning to his car and driving off into the desert.

“Come on,” I say urgently.  “We have to follow them!”

“They said that they would take it from here,” Mom says.

“Well, they didn’t say that we had to stay
here
.”

“No, but …”

“What if they don’t get to Ty soon enough.  What if …”  I stop talking because Mom puts the car in gear and turns it into the desert.  When we pull up behind the police car, both police men have their guns out and pointed threateningly at Franky, who has both hands in the air.

I see the burning stolen car and a gas can laying on its side close by.  Smoke is starting to flow off the tires as they catch fire.  One officer walks over to Franky while still training his hand gun on him.  “Keep your hands in the air and drop to your knees.”

Franky obeys and the officer walks up to him, reaches behind him and pulls Franky’s hand gun from where it is concealed against his back.

I open my car door.  “He has a knife in his pocket,” I yell as I run toward the burning car.

“Stay back!” the officer warns.  “That car is going to explode!”

“My friend is in the trunk,” I yell, darting to the driver’s door.  “I’m not going to just stand here and let him die.”  I grab the door handle but it is so hot that it burns my hand.  I pull my shirt over to the handle and the cloth shields my fingers from the heat just long enough to pull the latch.  The door swings open and a cloud of smoke billows out.  I duck down and look inside at the dashboard between the door and the steering column. 
The release latch has to be here!
  I can’t find it.  I hear a thumping banging sound coming from the rear of the car.  “Ty!” I yell.

“Jared?”

“I can’t find the latch,” I yell.  “I’ll pop the trunk as soon …”

“Get the …” Ty’s voice stops and all I hear is coughing.

“What?”

“Keys!” he yells.

I shift my eyes and peer through the smoke at the steering column.  Two keys dangle on a chain.  “I got ‘em,” I yell, yanking the key out of the ignition switch.  I role out of the car and onto my feet, racing to the rear of the car.

Flames are licking the paint where the gasoline had been poured, but through the smoke I find the trunk lock.  In a blur of motion I stick one key in the lock.  It goes in but does not turn.  I pull the key out and swap it for the other key.  The burning car spits and flames fly upward.  I drop the keys. 
Oh, no!
Diving for the keys, I grab them up and slide one of the keys into the lock.  I twist the key and to my surprise the trunk lid pops open.

I shove it upward and grab Ty’s arm, pulling him out of the trunk.  We scramble away from the car.  I slip and fall, but Ty pulls me up, and we stumble again as we run.  Both of us fall to the ground and I hear a deafening roar from behind us.  I figure that the fire has found the gas tank causing the car to erupt like a volcano.  At the same instant I feel a wave of intense heat blow past as bits of fire fly overhead.

“You’re on fire,” Ty yells.  “Roll over.”

I roll over twice and Ty throws some dirt on my pants.  “That was close,” Ty breathes once the fire on my pants is out.

“Yeah,” I say looking at the car or what’s left of it.  “A few more seconds and both of us …”

“Are you all right?” Mom lands next to us and she is all over me, holding my face and hugging me then crying.  “I thought … I thought … but you are all right?”

“I’ve got a couple of minor burns, Mom.  But I’m okay, really.”

She cries again, hugging me.

“Mom.  Mom.”

She stops for a second and looks at me.

“Mom, this is Ty.  Thanks to you he is alive.”

“Me?  I’m not the one diving into burning cars, son.”

“I know, Mom.  But you did drive straight down here.  And you drove crazy fast.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Taggart.  I think you both saved my life.  I could have been toast.”

I hear sirens and soon a fire truck pulls right up close to where we are sitting.  A paramedic unit arrives, too, and checks me over while the firemen spray down the car with foam.  The paramedics treat my burns and then check Ty.  His shoes, pants, and shirt tail are visibly singed, but Ty managed to escape with no injuries.

“So, you’ve got some explaining to do, young man,” Mom says as the paramedics finish their exam.

“Its a really long story, Mom,” I say.  “Any chance we can tell you during dinner?  I’m starving.”

“Actually it is Officer Briggs that has some questions,” she says as a police officer walks up.

“Hello, son,” the officer says.  “I need to get your statement.”

“Okay,” I say.

“Franky was totally bewildered and astounded when he saw you get out of your car.  He was so flustered that he actually said that you were supposed to be in that trunk with Ty, and how did you get out.  Why would he say that, son.  Did he put you in that car, too?”

I want to tell Officer Briggs all about being forced into the trunk at gunpoint, and the ride through the desert, and the gasoline and fire, and choking on the smoke, and how we escaped using the spirit pouch, but no one would believe such a story.  I look at the officer, “Well, we were in the school parking lot and …”

“And he forced both of us into the trunk,” Ty says.  I was trying like crazy to pop the trunk latch from the inside.  We went over a bump and somehow the trunk opened.  I pushed Jared out, but before I could get out too, it slammed shut again.  I couldn’t get the trunk open no matter what I did.”

“No wonder Franky was shocked to see you,” Officer Briggs says, nodding his head.  “If he thought you were both in that burning car, and then he sees you drive up with your mother.  He must have thought you were a magician.”

“Or a ghost,” I add.  “No wonder he was surprised.”

“Yes, well, we will call you if we need any more information. It’s very likely that Franky will spend some time in a Juvenile home for this.”  Officer Briggs walks away.