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CHET GABE

“I don’t know,” Aydin said. “I was–” He stopped, sucked in some air, then continued. “I woke up here, I don’t know what happened.”

He turned away and gripped Brand’s hair in his fist like the animal was some sort of life-line. Brand seemed to understand, and he rubbed his nose against Aydin’s chest with a gentle snort. Chet’s own chest swelled with pride.

This was his wonderful, relatable animal.

I know what hard times feel like, and a faithful companion to go through it with ya makes all the difference. 

Even more than whiskey.

But then Chet registered what Aydin had just said.

He said he jist woke up ‘ere, jist like me. This ain’t good, not good at all. What type ‘a magic’s awake ‘ere?

He glanced around at the rocky walls and its shivering inhabitants. Suddenly, the cold nipped at him like the rattle of a snake.

Aydin looked up at him. “You should get to the fire. You’ll freeze here.”

Chet stared at him as if he had just suggested filling Maverick’s boots with scorpions again.

Aydin patted Brand and then turned away. Chet still clamped the camcal’s line in his hand, and he started toward the fire, since he wasn’t sure what else to do.

But there’s people there, I don’t wanna . . .

He stopped after a few steps, and that was when Aydin staggered backwards and braced himself against the wall.

What in the?

A seizure?

Naw, it’d be different. . . bash it all, was it me? What’d I do? Oh, by a camcal’s tongue!

Chet felt like the cold had frozen him to the floor.

“Aydin, are you alright?” The dark haired fellow strode up and put a hand on Aydin’s arm, but the trembling man pulled away.

What should I do, what should I do? 

Brand’s flanks trembled and he pawed the ground. Chet ran a hand along the animal’s neck. “Check, check, boy, shuuush.”

The last thing we need is a wild camcal.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Aydin stammered. He seemed to sink into his cloak. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know– Sometimes that happens, I–”

He stopped and closed his eyes for a moment as if he couldn’t believe himself.

I feel ya kid, I feel ya.

Chet glanced at him with sympathy.

Brand made him feel better, should I?. . . .But maybe it was somethin’ I did?

“Hey!” The man with the sword suddenly snapped. “Give him space.”

Chet’s eyes immediately narrowed, and he glared at the man, clenching his teeth.

Don’t yell at me, fellow, if ya know what’s good for ya. I’ve had enough of yelling and screaming, so beat it. 

He glowered after the man as he went to sit down next to a girl. She had black hair, too, but hers was streaked with red. They looked alike.

Siblings?

He drew her into a hug, and Chet looked away.

Little sister. . . . Sweet, little sisters. I wonder what they think of me now. Sunshine, Berry . . . why did I leave? Why was I so selfish? You must be two fine young ladies now, and without a protector. What was I thinkin’?

He seemed to feel the whiskey in his pack.

Not now, not now, Gabe. Ya got this. Ya got this.

He started trembling, feeling the need for oblivion pulsing through his veins.

Too many folks, too much! 

“Hello? Is… anyone there?”

Suddenly, a man with hair as wild and red as the fire stumbled into the cavern — and his leg was running blood as fast as a gushing waterfall.

Great foxes! 

Chet stared in shock.

He needs help, bad. I need to help him . . . should I? I might jist scare him like I did Aydin . . . But Tyag and the others helped me. 

I gotta do this, one piece atta time. 

He took a deep breath, and was just about to command Brand to “stay,” when the dark haired man rushed to the redhead’s side and caught him before he fell.

“Water,” Chet saw the man’s cracked lips form the words.

Water . . . I’ve got a little! 

The black haired man helped the wounded fellow to a spot by the fire and immediately whipped out a canteen. The man drank like a camcal.

“Can I look at your leg?” Black-Hair said.

He moves fast, an’ ‘e thinks quick, Chet thought wryly. The man would make a worthy foe . . . but right now he was just relieved someone else was doing the helping.

Then the redhead started mumbling. “If I had been … faster …but … Yulenna … Mother …”

Suddenly he shot up like he had been stung. “YULENNA! MOTHER!”

Brand snorted and shook his head; his large, gentle eyes were wide.

“Shuuush, Brandy-boy.” Chet looked into his pet’s eyes. That’s it, keep calm, boy. Keep calm.

“Wh-who are you?” The redhead cried before scooting against the wall. And then he screamed again, a wordless scream of pain.

Chet closed his eyes for a moment and then watched the man while still rubbing Brand’s neck. The others were still and silent.

“My name is Niarok. We’re all stuck in this place, and it seems to have a mind bent on torturing us,” Blackhair said.

Alright, so yer name is Niarok.

And what did ya jist say?!

Chet stopped scratching Brand. Bash it all . . . what is this place? Who’s in charge a’ it? 

“You’re leg is bleeding badly. Is it alright if I bandage it?” Niarok asked.

The Redhead nodded, and Niarok went to work.

‘E’s a medicine man. . . 

“If the bleeding continues, I might have to suture it,” the doctor said, and the Redhead’s eyes gaped.

“I don’t think it will come to that,” Niarok answered.

Chet’s blood went cold.

No, not again. This place must really be out to git us, this ain’t good, ain’t good. . .

He started rubbing Brand again, a little more vigorously than he meant to. The camcal snorted, and Chet had to quiet both of them again.

“It better not come down to that,” the Redhead said.

Chet couldn’t help but to nod in agreement.

“I agree,” Niarok said, handing the man the canteen. “Don’t guzzle it all immediately. We have no access to fresh water currently. We have food and blankets if you want either.” Then he paused before asking: “what’s your name, by the way?”

“Ruan,” was the reply, and Chet repeated it to himself in his mind.

Bash it all, too many names.

He felt awkward, just standing there. He needed something to do. He needed to be alone.

Should I help? But what could I do, except offer the fellow some whiskey? It would warm the bones, that’s fer sure.

The thought made his skin tingle.

But what would ‘e think of me? 

Still, if I’m gonna be in ‘ere, I better make some friends. 

But look what happened to Aydin.

Chet turned away. “Kack, boy,” he commanded, and the camcal slowly laid down on the cold floor.

If he didn’t have Brand to worry about, he would have gone back to the cold stone room he woke up in, and there he would have waited for the worst. But a man must care for his beast before himself.

Even as he lowered himself to the floor, all his instincts screamed at him not to make himself vulnerable. But all the others were doing the same, and maybe they’d think better of him if he didn’t act imposing.

He settled up against Brand’s warm back. Just then, his elbow bumped into the saddlebag, striking something hollow. His banjo.

That’s a better treatment than brandy, at least fer right now. 

But he couldn’t play in front of all these people.

That would be so awkward.

But his fingers itched for it.

Maybe he could help the people that way. Music always helped him. Music was food for the soul. Music was soothing. Music spoke in ways that normal words couldn’t.

Suddenly, a face came into his mind. Not Maverick’s face. Not the face of one of his victims.

No, his mama’s face.

One step at a time . . .

He reached over to the saddle bag and pulled out the smooth, polished instrument.

Slowly, he plucked its strings and turned its tuning knobs.

Thank you mama, banjo-mama. 

I’ll come back ta ya, some day. I’ll git back. I promise. I’ll git back to ya and the girls, and I’ll care fer ya jist like papa.

He struck a chord, and then another one. Brand’s ears flickered back towards him and a puff of air escaped his nostrils. Chet could feel the animal’s body relax, and, in turn, his nerves slowed.

He started to hum.

He closed his eyes.

Then he began to sing.

His voice cracked, but it smoothed out a bit after the first verse. Chet poured himself into the song. He forced the cavern and the staring eyes out of his mind. He focused on the notes, on the sound, on the song.

He was singing for his mama, for his sisters, for his papa and for his friends. He was going to put himself back together, one piece at a time.

 

“My soul is heavy, my body’s bruised

I ain’t got that much to lose

I’m weary of this world and this world is weary of me

 

“You gave me hope and you gave me life

You were my light amidst the strife

But good things don’t last and so you passed

 

“But you always said

 

“One piece at a time

Sometimes that’s all that a body can do

One piece at a time

All the small things, the little things

One piece at a time

You’ll get it all done by and by.

 

“Oh, so I’ve picked up my pieces one by one

I’ve started making my way back home

 

“One piece at a time

Maybe it’s all that I can do

Just one piece at a time

I gotta see this through

One piece at a time

I promise you, I’ll get it done

One piece at a time, yeah, just one piece, one piece at a time.”

The words reverberated in his mind, flooding him with pictures. Pictures of a little house with a pot of soup on the stove. Two little girls in yellow dresses playing with a fox. A woman picking a banjo, singing in a voice like sugar with a man who played the mouth organ.

He was silent for a long, long while. At last, the pictures dimmed.

When he opened his eyes, he saw jungle trees. He saw, in the light of the lavender moon, a dead fire, and he saw his friends.

Yes, his friends.

And he didn’t even feel the wetness on his cheeks.