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Lieutenant Jason Clawson road up to the fort, already missing his home and family. Lanterns lit the way through the muggy night. Sitting next to him was Colonel Lewis, coming to his fort for an inspection. Lewis had decided to come with him last minute, so there had been no chance to tell his men to be ready.
Behind them, in the second wagon, was a small entourage of Lewis’ men. They all had spent too much time in town and were now arriving late. His wife amazed him how she put up with being married to a soldier who wasn’t home enough.
“You can understand Mahasi pretty well, can’t you?” Lewis asked.
“Yes, but I’m terrible at speaking it. It’s very different from English and French.”
Lewis glanced into the wagon. “You should continue to learn from what’s his name in the back?”
“Bobby, why?”
“Because we have new orders regarding the Mahasi, and you’re a big part of those plans. You see, we have a need for many more farm hands. We plan for the remaining Mahasi to fill those needs.”
“As slaves?”
“Yes, of course.”
Jason shook his head. “They’re extremely stubborn people. As you know with that group of Nottoway years ago, only about twenty out of a hundred ended up as slaves. Others either committed suicide or were killed trying to escape.”
Lewis chuckled. “Yes, but with the Mahasi no doubt their spirits are crushed. Tomorrow, I want you to go and find out where they’re heading. Bring back as many as possible. Have your other men set up a camp for them – a heavily guarded camp.”
“They’ll certainly kill themselves.”
“Perhaps some will, but try to present it as an opportunity, in their language. Tell them they can work in town and learn new things. Maybe they will cooperate with minimal resistance.”
Yeah, sure they will. Jason nodded, and wished he didn’t have to learn more Mahasi. For some reason he was gifted at picking up languages, even though he was soldier, not a translator.
“Bobby, tomorrow I will need you to...” Jason paused as they reached the fort.
Usually there was a light in the lookout tower, but the whole place was dark.
“What’s going on?” Lewis asked.
“I’m not sure.” Jason’s anger crept up a notch, fearing what the men might have done in his absence. Charlie, his son, had volunteered to stay behind to finish working on the west storage extension. Yet, he knew well how the remaining men longed to go into town and drink. The last thing he needed was everyone to be passed out drunk in front of the Colonel.
He pulled up to the entrance. Usually someone always opened the door before he had to call out, but nothing happened.
Jason set the brake, jumped down and pounded on the door. “Open this door at once. It’s Lieutenant Clawson with the Colonel!”
Nobody answered.
Jason turned around and pointed. "Bobby, get the lantern."
Bobby scrambled to the back of the wagon and brought out a lantern. Lewis’ men from the second wagon gathered around and spoke softly among themselves.
Jason struggled with the door. "Help me open this thing."
Jason, Bobby and the other men rushed over, all pushing and pulling the door until it opened an inch. They jammed their hands around the door, prying it open.
It was pitch black inside. Jason grabbed the lantern and held it up. Bodies of his men lay strewn across the ground.
“What the devil!” Colonel Lewis blurted out.
A horrible sick feeling stirred in the pit of his stomach. Could the Indians have done this for revenge? No, it’s impossible.
The Indians had lost too many men. His fort was too secure. He looked at some of the bodies, expecting to find arrows and axes. Instead, they had gashes and puncture wounds all over their bodies. It was as if a hoard of bears had come through. He recoiled at seeing lost companions – those he'd served with many years in battle. These men didn't die easily.
He couldn’t find his son and scanned the bodies frantically.
“My God. How can this happen?” Lewis asked.
"Quick, help me find my son, Charlie!" Jason shouted.
They searched everywhere – going into all of the rooms throughout the fort. Chairs, beds and tables, all had been torn apart. In one room he found a dead body on its side. He slowly went around. Jason lost his breath as if he’d been hit in the gut. It was Charlie, dead at only sixteen years old. His neck was torn open and a pool of dried blood surrounded his head. A gash ran across his face.
He’d been such a fine young man, a hard worker, a best friend and much too young to die. Jason knelt down and touched his shoulder. “No...” he mumbled. “Not my oldest son.” His throat tightened along with his fists. Those murderous bastards are going to pay for this!
“Over here.” Lewis tugged at a door. “This won’t open.”
Jason continued to stare at his son in disbelief.
“Clawson!” Lewis shouted. “Someone give me a hand.”
Clawson slowly stood up. Bobby rushed over, along with some others, they kicked and rammed the door until it fell down while Clawson watched. At the far end of the room, two men huddled together in the corner, shaking. Jason gritted his teeth, holding back the urge to scream and struggling to pull himself together.
Lewis knelt by the terrified men. "What the hell happened?"
The man stared, wide-eyed, trembling. Lewis kept repeating the order, but they wouldn’t speak.
Jason leaned down and shook the older one. “Tell me what happened!”
"It was werewolves, sir," said the man, stuttering. "They went on a rampage."
"Werewolves?” Every bone in his body said that was impossible. “No, that can’t be. What really happened?" He turned to the other man, who was trembling with big eyes.
"It's true, sir, these things weren't human. There were three of them, and they looked just like werewolves."
Jason imaged several natives dressed up in all kinds of creepy garb, rushing through the fort and killing men as they slept. "No, you were tricked.”
"Pardon me, sir, but they were stronger than any man I've ever seen. They could easily lift a man and toss him through the air."
Jason turned to Bobby. "Do you know anything about this?"
Bobby shook his head nervously, twisting his hat. "No, sir."
"The Indians have to be involved,” Lewis said. “I’ve heard of tribes with all kinds of paint and masks. Not around here, in South America, but still, that has to be the logical explanation.”
“Yes,” Jason agreed. “Perhaps the strongest of their tribe disguised themselves and attacked."
“But what explains the strange wounds?” Bobby asked.
“I’ve seen various tribes use bear claws in their costumes. As for the necks, that could be done with a knife,” Jason said.
“I’ve never known any of the tribes around here to go to this extent...sir.” Bobby looked down.
“Well, I do admit they seemed to go to a lot of trouble to make it look convincing,” Jason admitted. “They must be desperate to scare us.”
"They leaped over the wall like it was nothing," said the younger man. "Higher than any man could ever jump."
"It's obvious this was done for revenge." Jason turned to Bobby again. "Are there any stories about werewolves among your people?"
"I can only recall a few stories when I was a child," Bobby said. "I don't know if any of it is true. Our people call them skin walkers."
Jason winced at the name. “There you go. They got this idea from these stories they pass around.”
"I bet they practice some sort of dark magic and summoned those werewolves to attack us," said the older man.
Lewis grumbled. “I don’t believe in any sort of magic.”
Jason shook his head. The terrified men couldn’t think straight. They needed rest, food and water. Hopefully they weren’t ruined as soldiers.
“They might be planning more attacks. Recall the rest of the soldiers,” Lewis said. “We must find out where the Indians are hiding and how they could accomplish such a thing.”
“What about our original plans?” Jason asked.
“We won’t let this stop us,” Lewis said. “Assign your men accordingly. Some to make the camp, others to capture the natives while at the same time hunting down the savages that did this. I will send you extra men, and I expect results.”
“Yes sir.” Jason vowed to triple his efforts to learn their language. For the loss of his men, he would put the slave camp right where their homes used to be and hang those responsible for all to see.
