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A Strange Village in Wartime; or, What I
Found When I Went Looking
by Brandon O’Connor
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The war was over, at least dying out. So they said. I returned
home either way.
In the strange country where I had carried out monotonous
orders for several years I saw a land rip itself apart from the belly
out, like a diabolical disease, like a monster set on destroying
every independent land. We could have simply stepped back and
watched the massacre self-perpetuate, as did God when creating
man. The evil was not in us, but in the catastrophe we created. We
didn’t need to intervene, though we did, in the miraculous warfare
being fought between these individuals, united only by the similar
dirt beneath them.
The man I took orders from was General Ingus, a dark-
skinned, angular man resembling a starving East African dik-dik,
with eerily dark eyes, always wet as if he had just left his cot. His
small stature made him look something of a child stealing a
General’s identity. He was, or seemed, indifferent towards
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everybody on base, except for me. To me he felt some sort of
brotherhood, a connection in the realm of his mind. It was
something I would never find answers to, as it was guarded,
secured, stowed away behind his weathered face. I had no hint of
why, it had always been that way, since I became stationed here
some time ago.
Maybe it was because I was different from the rest of the
men there. General Ingus knew of my background in biology and
anthropology, and my absence in any military training from before
the war. I was a scientist amid a pack of idiot boars. Drafted unlike
the rest of them. They volunteered.
That’s probably why one day, while maintenancing a broken
typewriter in the storage room of the barracks, the beaming sun
being too unforgiving to be outside making land surveys, General
Ingus confronted me in regards to a “special mission.”
“Lieutenant Dodds,” that’s me, “tomorrow you’ll be
relocating to observe the natives of a small village located near the
coast of Insolitus Bay, six kilometers south in fact.” His voice was
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like the gentle sound of an old, weary farmer shoveling loose
gravel. “I need reports on any problematic issues you may find.
We usurp their location two weeks from tomorrow.” Usurp a
village? Near Insolitus Bay?
“Lieutenant?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” No time for questions.
The town I was to observe was an insignificant village
positioned between two vast mountain ranges that never collided,
but ran inland from the ocean at widening distances, eventually
rotating away and venturing into distant, unknown lands. One
could smell the ocean’s breath trapped and circulating at the foot
of the mountains, sweet and crisp, like a freshly braised cabbage
salad, or a hand-rolled cigar. Morning would wake with clouds
gathered over the shore, blanketing the cold sand; but the noontime
sun would tear it apart, its fingers touching and warming the thick
patch of healthy ferns and taro plants. Upon the shedding of
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daylight, a world was exposed that I had, before then, never seen
anything similar to, occupied more by nature than filled with any
person. In a seemingly objective sense, the place was beautiful,
and undiscovered by the plague of view-seeking voyagers. It was
like the harmonious cry a mosquito might sing when dying;
beautiful, but you would never guess it was there.
My camp was neatly tucked into a crevice of two adjoining
boulders at the root of one of the taller mountains, a safe distance
from the village. A convenient mask of shrubs and moss was
layered around the rock, allowing my camouflage draperies to
remain invisible. There was no possibility of seeing the village
from my camp. Climbing down through the valley would be my
only way of scouting the natives.
The morning just after arriving, I decided to explore the land
surrounding my new site. Walking through the undergrowth,
following the easiest route between the incredibly tall teak trees, I
heard a low echo of sprinting water. Following it close to twenty
meters I discovered a hidden plunge pool for a relatively small
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waterfall. Keeping unseen behind the brush, I found that no sort of
activity, other than the flow of the waterfall, appeared to be
happening. I stepped out and peered into the water.
In the clearing of trees surrounding the pool, a comforting
harmless breeze found life, dipping in above the leaves and
bouncing out again on its way to the shoreline. I cooled my neck
and stared into the shallow water. My face wrinkled back up at me,
my knotted furrowed brows concerned with the dirt sprinkled on
my cheeks and thickset nose. My jaw gave way to knobby ears,
like I had found most of the men in this war carried. I was an ugly
human belonging to an ugly troop in an ugly war.
I decided to use the pool to wash the travel off of my body.
Undressing myself, I laid my outfit and gear on the nearest rock.
Stretching, with my arms extended overhead, and now completely
nude, the sun warmed the scale of my taught body. The shadows
my ribs created looked like dimples in wet sand at the beach, those
caused by the cross-motion of waves. My chest was covered with
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meager fuzz which continued down my stomach, crotch and legs,
tinting my skin slightly.
I dove in off the tallest rock I could find. I wasn’t concerned
that the water was too cold to be enjoyed as a leisurely swim since
it would be quick. The waterfall swept mist over the surface and
the pressure of the plunging water pushed me farther away towards
the outflowing streams. In an attempt to see the waterfall from
beneath the surface, I dove deep and swam hard against the water.
Down there I noticed the floor supported a garden of various
plants I had never seen before. Also, small, luminescent fish-like
creatures wove themselves between the plants and rocks, darting in
all directions as if dancing. Their joie de vivre excited me to look
closer and identify them, but I was unable to get a good visual
because of their swift movement. I resurfaced.
Filling my lungs with the air I was beginning to appreciate so
much (after so long in the dust-laden air at the base), I looked
across the water and saw standing amongst the trees a young
person dressed in long charcoaled fabric, the fashion of the
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villagers I was to be observing. Shocked, I must admit, for I don’t
know what I was thinking swimming in the pool for so long after
only wanting a quick wash, I swam towards my pile of clothes,
keeping my attention on the young villager. I took it to be a girl by
the ponytail behind her. I climbed out and began redressing,
though when I looked back at the trees, the girl was gone.
I decided to track this mysterious person to be safe. Though
my secrecy was not exactly part of my orders, I did not want to
give away my presence for reasons of my own. In part, I didn’t
want my stay here to be social, merely remain an observer.
Any sign of tracks remained elusive to me, though. I was
never trained for this sort of recon, so my wits were all I could rely
on. Unfortunately, after several minutes of plodding through
bushes, I concluded to make my way back to camp. It wasn’t until
I passed by the same hidden waterfall that I noticed the child on
the opposite side of the pool.
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“Hello there,” I called out, though the waterfall may have
killed my greeting, as the girl remained still. I waved, but still she
did nothing.
Slowly and in an attempt at a harmless stride, I began circling
the pool, making use of the staggered stones. She didn’t seem to
mind, remaining completely still the duration of my reaching her,
as if trying to blend in with the trees. When I was within four
meters of her, I lowered my stance, crouching, making sure not to
position myself as if about to leap, but holding my shoulders back.
I wanted to appear as friendly and safe as possible.
“He-llo,” I said. Then, pointing to myself, “D-ah-dts”
“I know who you are, asshole.” I stood there, stupid and
staring. She spoke with an unremarkable flair like that of an
average, civilized, suburban teenager, tilting her head so slightly,
hinting at the attitude she held within. One could imagine her, if
dressed appropriately, with her own soft hands gripping at her
waist, smacking gum like a horse, twisting a lock of hair around
her index, like cotton in a spindle, as if winding up her brain.
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Though she in fact was not doing any of those things, for she was
still a native villager. Whatever connotations that seemed to hold
now I was unsure. “And I’m Yda.”
“Ighda? What?” I said, attempting to solve the puzzle.
“Yda! And you’ve been swimming in our holy waters!” And
then my neck felt pierced with flames and my vision melted into
water. Consumed by darkness.
First, light slowly filtered its way back into my eyes. Then
the sounds of clicking, pops and mumbling into my ears. The light
began resembling scattered indiscernible shapes and colors. Dull
pain covering my body became sharp aches. Smoke invaded my
nostrils, pushing me further back into reality with its pungent
flavor. My spinal cord felt like dogs had been chewing on it, each
vertebra gnawed and slobbered on, knobs reshaped into apple
cores.
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My vision clearing, I saw I was surrounded by onlookers. A
small fire set to the side of me blew smoke at my face. I closed my
eyes and coughed, making my ribs claw at my insides. I noticed I
was securely tied to some kind of tree trunk or pole with my limbs
bound to my sides.
“Where am I?”
“He wakes!” Attention was brought to my audience. My
throat seemed full of grease and mucus by the feel and sound of it.
“Feeling better, D-ah-dts?” Yda stepped through the crowd.
“Who are you? What is this?”
“Yda. This is ransom.”
“Wha—?”
“We found your camp, Mr. Dodds. With it, all of your
briefing and whatnot. We know you’re a spy and that you plan to
kick us out in two weeks. I don’t really care why or anything,
because we know you don’t know either.” I felt utterly dumb.
“Thing is, we like it here. We were here first. I don’t think we’re
gonna be moving anywhere.”
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“Is what ransom?” Words were coming out confused and
mixed. My head was still thick with whatever had caused me to
slip from consciousness.
“You are, Mr. Dodds. You’re the ransom. We have you, they
want you, we want to stay. Your trade for our well-being. Get it?
Ransom.”
This could not be happening. Not now, on my first mission,
in this beautifully serene place. Well, it used to be serene. I should
have built my camp in the jungle. No, farther into the mountains. I
should have brought help. I was never trained for anything of this
nature. And now everything was over.
What will General Ingus think of my failed mission? I
presume I will be back in the storage room, fixing useless
hardware for an assemblage of retarded machine-gun whores. Or
will I be involuntarily discharged? Shameful as it was, it was a real
possibility, one that I should not disregard. Being discharged
would mean being disowned by everyone else. Forget any worthy
job opportunities.
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My pathetic, immobile body shook from the thought of it and
threads of pain scraped through my spinal cord. The skin of my
face contorted itself so that my cheeks moved over my eyes, my
lips over my cheek, and brows over my forehead. With my jaws
twinging and fastening themselves together, I resembled a
caricature of my already ugly self, clownish and hell-bent. Yda and
the natives seemed to think it was an especially comical scene.
“Ha ha! You’re a character, Mr. Dodds,” said Yda. Everyone
else laughed too.
“How does this work?” I asked in one exhausted breath.
“How will you let them know you have me? How do we trade?”
“Already on it, dude. That dart to your gullet knocked you
out an entire day. We’ve been busy. Let’s see, we’ve already sent a
telegram to your base, some how or other. And—”
“To the base? You know where the base is?”
“All in your backpack, Mr. Dodds. Very simple directions on
how to make contact. The people at the village just north of here
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had a telegraph, don’t ask me how, I don’t know. Anyway, we sent
the message last night. I guess we’re just waiting on a reply now.”
So it was already in motion. Now I just needed to be rescued.
Humiliating, but necessary. I also needed a doctor.
And then a loud zip was heard in the distance. Then several
more. They seemed to be coming from a few directions, scattered
about in front of me. Bullets!
Panicked, the villagers surrounding me sprinted in various
directions, like smashed ants. There was nowhere for them to hide.
Tiny metallic projectiles speared my captors on all sides that I had
retained visibility. Blood spat from the shoulders of a woman onto
the face of Yda, who remained hidden by climbing beneath the
fallen body. Another man running towards me received three hits
to his torso, hip and elbow, in that order. Guts were spilled onto all
sides of the lively, plush grass field. Then silence, except for the
breaking of waves over rocks behind me.
Men descended from the bushes of the surrounding hills in
stiff striding movements looking like waiters carrying trays of hot
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food. Moving in, they held their guard until finally circling around
my helpless self.
“There’s a girl under that body over there,” I motioned with
my nose and toe, “I think she’s dangerous.”
One soldier kicked over the body on Yda and dropped his
machine gun at her. While looking up at him, she attempted what
appeared to be a clawing motion at him.
“You motherf—” kheuoo! Limp.
“Hoorah!” yelled the soldier.
“Hoorah!” repeated the machine.
While I was relaxing on a hill above the beach, bandaged and
weak, absorbing the lasting view of the horizon over that sapphire
bed of water, and the ripe wind flying to and from the mountains,
General Ingus came from behind and occupied the lush seat to my
right. I attempted to stand for a salute by leaning forward, but my
tender bones caused an involuntary gasp for air.
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“Stay seated, Lieutenant. No condition to be saluting
anyone.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. I had never shared much conversation with
the General, nor many others in military positions. Unsure of the
etiquette to be followed, and knowing I needed to speak of
something, I asked the only thing I could think of. “How is the war
coming, sir?”
“The war? Coming to an end. Intelligence sent word last
week.”
“Last week, sir? Sir, if you don’t mind me asking, then what
was the ultimate goal of my mission? We don’t set up a new base
at the end of war, and we never attempt to seize land under alien
territory, hardly even during desperate times.”
“Ever heard of spoils of war, Lieutenant?”
“Of course, sir.”
“Have any idea how well a resort would do on this beach?”
“Sir?”
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“People pay good money for a vacation like this. Beach,
trees, mountains, nature. I see sunbathing, waterskiing, hiking,
swimming; an entire week full of activities for any well-paying
family or newlywed. And now it’s mine.” I pondered the
perplexities of his statement.
“Spoils of war, sir?”
“Spoils of war, Lieutenant. Spoils of war.”
“Yes, sir.”
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