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Late at night, Keme went to his parent’s shelter, as all the others were full of people. Everyone had to share. The shelter wasn’t completed yet, but good enough for now. His parents were asleep when he arrived.
Once again he’d held back something from Enola: the fact that he was leaving in the morning to look for Leotie. There was no other way because she – along with several others – would’ve tried to talk him out of it. Then again, many would be glad if he left. Something nagged at him that looking for Leotie was the right thing to do. Since he never slept well, he felt confident he could slip out before everyone else was awake.
His mother had left a small cot for him with a bear blanket. He curled up under it and shut his eyes. For some reason, he thought about Bobby the translator. The people shouldn’t hate him because, if anyone, Bobby could teach them a lot about the outlanders.
He shut his eyes, only to see the images of arrows plunging into bodies, the screaming, the blood and suffering. Keme squirmed, trying to get it out of his head. He longed to have Leotie next to him, knowing her touch would calm him enough to get some sleep.
As he dozed off, he heard a voice but couldn’t make out the words. He figured his father was talking in his sleep and flipped over. Out of the darkness, a hand slapped over his mouth and a knife pressed against his throat. Keme jolted awake.
“You think I’m a joke?” Chapa asked, breathing on him.
Keme mumbled and struggled, but several other men held him down. He recognized Fala and others of Chapa’s friends.
“I said do you think I’m a joke?” Chapa repeated.
Keme shook his head as they jammed a gag into his mouth.
“Keme!” His mother woke up with a start.
“What the—!” His father jumped up and limped toward them.
Chapa’s men grabbed his father and wrestled him to the ground. Mother struggled with them, trying to make them stop. Chapa backhanded her and sent her falling backwards. She fell on the ground, not moving.
Keme tried to yell, but only a muffled sound came out, which was quickly stifled by a punch in the ribs.
“So you think you’re a chief or something?” Chapa loosened the gag.
“I never said that.”
“You were voted out and you’re not supposed to be here.” Chapa tightened the gag again.
Several men piled on top of Keme and forced his hands behind his back, tying them and with his ankles. They covered his head with a sack and tied it around his neck. Keme panicked and struggled all the more.
“Stop!” Father protested and struggled. “My son has done nothing wrong. Please let me tend to my woman.”
Chapa grimaced. “No, you’re going with him!”
Father thrashed about and mumbled. Keme guessed they must’ve gagged him as well. Chapa and his friends pulled father and son to their feet and dragged them outside. In only a breech cloth, the cool air of the night chilled him. He tried to see through the sack as cold dew soaked his feet. Water trickled ahead. He guessed they were near the river. There were a few night guards, but for some reason they didn’t notice what was going on. Perhaps they sided with Chapa.
Keme struggled to escape, only to be hit in the ribs again. He bent over in pain, gasping to suck in some air. They shoved him along and guided him into a canoe. His father grumbled next to him. He feared his mother might be dead.
“With you gone, our people can rebuild.” Chapa knelt on top of Keme and used a short rope to secure his wrists to a board in the lower corner of the canoe.
After a few seconds, the canoe swayed back and forth. All he could hear were toads chirping and, of course, the occasional chuckle from Chapa and Fala. After several minutes, they pulled off the gag.
“Father, are you alright?” Keme asked.
“Yes,” Father said. “Chapa, when the tribe finds out what you did to us, they’ll not stand for it.”
“I’m willing to take that chance to get rid of you two.”
“If you kill us, The Great Spirit will make you pay,” Father said.
“Spoken by someone who has no respect for the Great Spirit at all,” Chapa said.
Keme wondered how he would ever find Leotie now. “Just let us off near the old camp site and I won’t ever come back.”
“You don’t get requests here.”
“But how far are you taking us?”
“Ha! As if we’d tell you,” Chapa said.
Keme tried to move toward his father, but the rope around his wrists stopped him. “Sure, you can get rid of us, but we’re not the only ones who want you to step down.”
Fala yanked Keme’s hair. “How does this feel?” He released his hair with a push and sent his head slamming into the wood.
Keme’s head throbbed, and he broke out sweating.
“Don’t worry. The Great Spirit will decide your fate shortly.” Chapa’s tone said he was hiding something.
The two whispered at the other end of the canoe, too quietly for Keme to hear. The rocking continued to increase. An occasional splash of cold water came over the side and spilled onto him. Thunder rumbled in the distance. A couple of drops of rain fell on his legs.
Fala chuckled. “The Great Spirit will decide if you live or die in the rapids while we remain blameless by leaving it in his hands.”
“It doesn’t work that way,” Father said.
“We’re done with you!” Chapa shoved the canoe.
Keme guessed they must’ve stepped into a different canoe. He didn’t say anything more. There wasn’t any point.
“The river is getting faster,” Father said. “We have to get out of these ropes.”
Keme struggled. “I-I can’t reach you.”
“Just try to get free.”
As the canoe drifted along, he hoped they wouldn’t float right into an outlander settlement. He struggled to get his hands loose, desperate to get the sack off his head.
“We have to get back to our people,” Paytah said. “We can’t allow Chapa to lead them to ruin.”
Thunder crackled in the sky and a heavy downpour set in. In seconds, they were drenched. Keme squirmed and pulled at the ropes. Lightning flashed along with more thunder. The motion of the canoe increased until it was bouncing violently. It tipped from side to side, threatening to flip over at any moment. If he didn’t get the ropes loose, they were going to drown. Keme pulled and tugged at the ropes, feeling his skin tear and burn.
A big wave rocked the canoe. It dipped farther and farther to the left each time. Water spilled into the canoe and pooled around his legs. A gust of wind pushed it all the way over. Keme took a deep breath and tumbled out into the water, his weight enabling him to break away from the canoe. He sank into complete darkness, his heart racing and struggled to hold back the urge to panic.
Fight, Keme, fight...
With the last of his strength and ignoring the pain, he pulled his wrists out of the ropes and took the sack off. With his ankles still tied together, he swam, straining to reach the top before his lungs burst. Forcing through, he gasped for air. A brief flash of lightning allowed him to see the river bank.
“Father!” he shouted. Only water swirled around him. He looked in all directions and hoped for the next flash to light up the river.
Keme swam to the shore and collapsed in the mud, breathing heavily, his lungs still burning. He untied the ropes around his ankles, forced himself up and looked out into the water. Rain continued to pour down and lightning gave him brief glimpses of the river surrounded by forest.
The canoe was stuck on a log with no sign of his father. Keme’s heart pounded. He jumped into the water, swam as fast as he could and climbed up on the log. Water rushed past as he crawled out to the canoe, trying to tug him back into the turbulent river. Light flashed, and he caught a glimpse of his father, under the water and not moving.
“Father!” Keme jumped into the water and tried to pull him up, but found his hands still bound to the canoe. He struggled to free him. Between the rushing water and his father’s weight, he couldn’t get the ropes untied or loose at all. Too much time had passed, he knew. Then he hung on the ropes with all his weight and broke the plank. He worked around the log and pulled, straining every last muscle until they were on shore.
Paytah didn’t move. Lightning revealed blood swirling around his head, and his face had turned blue. Keme pushed on his chest over and over, but nothing happened. His father was gone. No, this can’t be happening. He can’t be gone. Not after surviving the battle.
Keme knelt there shivering and trying to catch his breath, oblivious to the rain and wind. A rush of angry heat raced through him. He gritted his teeth and pressed his lips tight, choking back an outburst while thoughts of killing Chapa with his bare hands rolled through his mind.
“No, no...” he muttered and pulled his father’s body under some dense brush and sat down. Blood from his wrists drizzled over his icy skin. Shivering, he tucked his arms behind his knees, trying to get some warmth in his arms and legs.
