Zen's War: Captivity

Colonel Krakowski remained lying on the ground, his physical health continuing to deteriorate. If they were going to save him they would need to act quickly. “Is the shaman near here?” Zen inquired.

As it turned out, the shaman that he had spoken of was only about half a block from their current location. The Colonel was obviously in no shape to walk, so they had to find a way to carry him. Hector and Derek used the metal frames from their backpacks to form a cot. They used two pieces of rope to tie the two frames together, after removing the backpacks. They then unfolded a sleeping bag and placed it lengthwise between the two aluminum poles of the frames. The task of carrying the two backpacks was left to Pablo and Zen. This would be much more difficult without the frames to support them. The backpacks were extremely heavy. Aurora carried the Colonel’s backpack on her back.

The group left the Nocturne’s corpse lying there, and followed Pablo’s lead. Carrying the Colonel’s body was extremely difficult and strenuous. He was not a small man. He was around six feet tall, and nearly two hundred pounds. This meant that for the majority of the time they would have to drag the makeshift stretcher.

They were led off of the main road they had been following, and eastward down an alleyway. Their plan would obviously have to be put on hold. Most in their current day and time would have just left the Colonel to die. This group was not like most. Zen and the rest of them were either blessed or cursed with a conscience. Unfortunately, the ones who put others before themselves were usually the first to suffer.

Slowly the light of dawn began to show on the horizon of the Rincon mountains. Fortunately because there was now daylight they would no longer have to worry about Nocturnes. This fact however did little to lighten their moods. They were now faced with another set of problems. Colonel Krakowski appeared to be on the the verge of death, and now they would have to wait another day to carry out their plan to steal a vehicle from the Presidio.

As they continued down the alleyway Zen spotted the smoke of a dying fire. He noticed that it was about three yards ahead and to their right. It looked like it was coming from the backyard of a now abandoned house. When they finally came to the back yard, which was overgrown with weeds, they could see smoke rising from the ground. It seemed that the smoke was coming not from the surface, but from somewhere beneath the ground. They left the Colonel lying in the alley that followed Pablo. In the center of the backyard was a round metal grating with smoke rising through it.

“Hunter, are you down there?” Pablo called.

“Have you come seeking healing or guidance?” a voice asked from below.

Pablo thought for a moment and answered, “I’ve come seeking healing. Well actually it is not I who needs healing, it is my friend.”

“What payment have you brought?” the disembodied voice answered.

“I’ve brought food and water,” Pablo answered.

“That will be sufficient. You may bring the victim before me.”

It was then that the entire group returned to the alleyway to get the Colonel. He looked more dead than alive. His skin was becoming increasingly pale, and he was muttering incoherently. Instead of dragging him, they combined strength to carry him. When they got near the metal grating they set him down on the ground. A pair of hands then reached up and slid the metal grating to the right, revealing a darkened hole. The next problem they would have to overcome was how they would get the Colonel through the hole to the chamber below. They would first have to remove him from their makeshift stretcher, and then carry him through the hole, feet first.

A part of Zen thought that this was madness. Most shamans or healers simply claimed to be. Most of the time they were fakes that were trying to impress people. They really knew nothing of spiritual healing. Many were obsessed with the romantic image of the shaman or medicine man. For lack of better options Zen was going along with Pablo’s suggestion to consult this so-called shaman.

Pablo was the first to descend into what reminded Zen of a Kiva. There was a wooden ladder that reached a dirt floor that was about nine feet below the surface. When Pablo got to the floor, he motioned for the rest of them to lower the Colonel through the hole. Pablo stood on the floor and grabbed the Colonel’s legs as Hector and Derek held him under both arms. The shaman gripped him by his waist as Hector and Derek released him. The shaman and Pablo then laid the Colonel down on the ground.

Zen, Aurora, Hector then Derek descended the ladder into the Kivalike chamber. Kivas had been used for hundreds of years by many tribes of Native Americans in the Southwest. Their use had been especially prevalent during the time of the Spanish conquest of the seventeenth and eighteenth century. During that time the indigenous population had not been permitted to practice their beliefs, or conduct their spiritual rituals. They were forced to practice their beliefs in secrecy. If it had been discovered that they were practicing their native religions, they would have been charged with heresy, or they would have been accused of witchcraft. The punishment for such crimes was usually death or imprisonment. The Mexican Revolutionary Front viewed all non-Catholics with the same animosity that the Spanish had. Anyone who was not Catholic was seen as an instrument of Satan.

The room was box shaped. There was very little light, aside from a single kerosene lamp that hung from the ceiling beside the ladder on a chain. The shaman was not Native American as Zen had expected, instead he was black. He looked more Rastafarian than anything else; from his head hung a mass of dreadlocks that extended halfway down his back. All he wore were a pair of dirty Levis that were extremely threadbare. The muscles of his arms and chest were well defined.

Up against the wall to their right was an old lawnchair. The shaman whose name was Hunter pointed to it. They all took it as a sign that he wanted the Colonel placed on it. Hector, Derek and Pablo picked him up off the ground and carried him to the lawnchair, while Colonel Krakowski continued to foam at the mouth and thrash violently.

“So, what are we supposed to do, join hands and draw a pentagram?” Derek asked the shaman sarcastically.

“Shut up. This is no time for sarcasm,” Aurora responded.

The quote unquote shaman was probably an escaped slave from the Confederate territory. Many of the slaves practiced a form of voodoo. The voodoo religion was a conglomeration of both Catholic and African religions. Voodoo was seen as especially evil by the Confederates and Revolutionarios. It was said by many that those that practiced voodoo were in league with Satan. “His spirit is trying to depart. I must try to coax it into returning. I must leave my body in order to retrieve it; otherwise, it will choose not to return,” the shaman said with a stern look on his face.

“How do you expect to do that? I knew this was a waste of time,” Hector answered. “I thought you said that this shaman knew something,” Hector said, directing his anger at Pablo.

“Who said I was a shaman? I’m a Houngan,” he responded in annoyance.

“Whatever. Why don’t you go ahead and work your magic,” Hector responded, beginning to lose his patience.