Chapter 21
Man depicted...
"The Problem with Witch Doctors"
From "Discourses by the Invisible"
By Sorinesti Jones.
Published by University of Toronto Press
copyright 2120
The problem with Witch Doctors is, that despite filling an important niche in a tribal culture, they normalize superstition. The Witch Doctor may act as doctor and therapist and apothecary all rolled into one with a slice of father knows best to boot, but the Witch Doctor also adds a big heaping portion of stage magician and carnival huckster. If there is a single easy reason for the the rest of the world's quick dismissal of North America, it is the wide spread prevalence of folk medicine, hedge magic and rampant superstition.
Even in the UNR (the United North American Republic), superstition is heavy in the rural areas. In the Oil Baronies and the DRO (the Democratic Republic of Oregon) superstition is even more widespread. This makes the challenge of reintroducing progress and science to the wilder areas of North America.
This also puts the Witch Doctor in a strange position. On one hand, he is respected for his knowledge and abilities. On the other hand, he is feared for his mysterious powers. More than a few doctors on outreach work from the UNR have been executed by superstitious tribal groups after being accused of dark witchcraft.
The Witch Doctor must walk this line with delicacy, but we should dream of a day when the Witch Doctor can put away his bone rattle and his top hat and put on a lab coat and join the ranks of civilization.
* * *
Five years ago...
July 15th, 2115
Devlin approached the clearing with the methodical caution of a bomb technician. He could see speakers- probably stolen from the fort's public address system mounted in trees with rope and duct tape around the edge of the clearing. Devlin couldn't imagine what purpose the speakers had served, but their presence alerted him to the fact that he had probably come to the end of his search.
Devlin listened at the edge of the clearing. He could hear a human voice, but only one, and that voice sounded scared. The scared voice was likely Simpson. Were the raiders still with Simpson? There were no other sounds from the clearing that told Devlin anything.
Devlin weighed his options. He could barge in with his gun up and hope to catch the attackers by surprise. But that plan assumed that the attackers were still there and that he actually had the element of surprise- something that Devlin didn't think that he could count on. He could try to sneak forward and get a better look first, and then devise a plan. But if the attackers were aware of his presence that would simply give them a clear shot.
Devlin nodded to himself. He was dead already, he had decided this before he began. He could hear Simpson's voice in the clearing- he was certain that the voice did belong to Simpson.
Devlin crouched down and then pushed off, launching himself through the wall of leaves. He hit the ground and rolled into a crouch with his Beretta up and ready. He scanned across the clearing. There was a chair with somebody sitting in it at the center of the clearing, the person was draped with a sheet of some sort and was shuddering as though in pain.
Behind the chair was a table and then a burned out black tree. Devlin ignored the tree and the table for the moment and focused on what he was fairly certain was an injured Simpson in the chair. He walked over to the chair, noting that there were bird bones scattered around the chair. And then he felt a stab of pain and looked down. As well as bird bones, there werecaltrops - nasty things made by hammering three nails through small bits of wood so that a point always faced up. Devlin had stepped on one, and although it hadn't gone in deep- it had definitely pierced his foot. He ripped thecaltrop out of his boot and examined it. The device looked relatively free of rust- which was the real danger with such things. He tossed thecaltrop onto the table and continued walking toward the chair, using low brushing steps that swept bone and caltrop both aside as he went.
He reached the chair and looked at the sheet, and then recognized it as a flag. The flag was mostly white with a large red snowflake in the center and red wings spreading on either side of the snowflake.
"It is the Red Snow Raiders." Devlin whispered to himself.
All the guards thought that this was the work of the raiders. Proof was not comforting to Devlin however. The Red Snow Raiders had been active for five years now and had never been caught, never been seen, never taken a casualty. The Red Snow Raiders were ghosts and bogeymen. They only attacked Winter Wolf holdings. And they didn't lose. There was no solid information about the raiders that the commanders were sharing with the troops, but rumors were plentiful. The double red wing design on their logo lent itself to obvious conclusions. But in the five years since the raiders had begun their attacks, they had never once launched an attack near theRedwing tribe holdings. Maxwell Winters had also never retaliated against the Redwing tribe. He had continued to send the usual raiding parties, but had not launched a large force against the Redwing tribe. The snowflake design was also an obvious element, but since the Raiders attacked the Winter Wolves it seemed unlikely that they were wolves themselves.
Still, rumors circulated. Some people thought that the raiders were Maxwell Winter's elite force, testing and disciplining troops. Others claimed that the raiders were the bastard children of both theRedwings and the Winter Wolves and had sided with the Red Wings. Others claimed that the raiders were the ghosts of Redwing members killed by the Winter Wolves. Devlin didn't know who the raiders were, but he knew how good they were. And that worried him.
"Don't leave me like this." the figure under the flag muttered, and Devlin snapped back to reality. The voice definitely belonged to Simpson.
"Don't leave me like this. Don't let me die as a zombie."
Devlin whipped the flag off Simpson and stared. Simpson was tied with wire to the chair. He was bleeding at the wrists and ankles from the wire. His eyes were vacant, staring into the distance. And duct taped to his chest was a cardboard note.
It read- 'The caltrops were poisoned."
Devlin felt the blood drain from his face. He looked down at his left foot in horror.
"Ghost Dealers, ghost dealers, ghost dealers." Simpson muttered to himself.
Devlin collected himself and noticed that the note kept going.
'We've sabotaged one of your ammo sheds'
"Wild man and wolfhound, wild man and wolfhound." Simpson muttered.
"Damn it!" Devlin swore.
Devlin turned away from Simpson and began to scan the table. It was filled with medical gear including a number of syringes filled with various liquids. Nothing that might help him tell with what he'd been poisoned. He looked to the burnt tree, which he now noticed had been carved into a chair, and approached it cautiously. There was a small headset microphone lying on the seat of the old tree- nothing else.
Then he noticed that Simpson had stopped muttering. Devlin ran back, stepping around the caltrops and checked Simpson's pulse. There was nothing, Simpson was dead.
"Crap."
Suddenly a wave of dizziness hit Devlin and he staggered, stepping on another caltrop. He fell onto his hands and knees. He was having trouble focusing his eyes, and was getting headaches.
"Damn, what did they put on those caltrops."
Blackness engulfed Devlin and he lost some time. Clearly he had been unconscious, because he was now flat on the ground. He probably was going to die and probably hallucinating like Simpson had done. He needed to pass whatever information he could manage on to command.
A wave of dizziness hit Devlin, but he managed to switch his radio back on.
"This is Devlin, I have an emergency. I think Simpson is dead- I found him- but I think he's dead. There are caltrops around our position, they are poisoned I am poisoned and hallucinating I think. I arrived before something important what was I going to say I think I'm losing it command do you copy?"
There was a silence that felt far too long and then Devlin heard.
"I repeat, Private Devlin we hear you. Do you copy? Over."
"I think I blacked out again command been poisoned it'll do that to you. Simpson was alive when I found him and he was talking about Ghost Dealers and Wild men and wolfhounds and that might be important and they have and they have and I what was I saying command?"
"Take it slow Private. What to the attackers have?"
"They stole our public address speakers. And I think that they used 'em to mess with Simpson and there are a lot of drugs on a table here but I don't think that any are my antidote and I was afraid to try and check and Oh yeah Simpson was talking about zombies too command."
"Did you say zombies Private? Please confirm."
"Yeah something about not wanting to die as a zombie which is kind of weird 'cause aren't zombies already dead I've seen the old movies you know and it's getting really hard to hold a decent conversation cause this jackass Simpson won't stop talking to me."
"Private, are you still lucid?"
"Don't think so command I think I'm on the way out and I know I need to say something else and ammunition and how we store it or maybe something about going to the store no that doesn't sound right and I'm pretty sure its about the ammunition and the raiders I think and you know they really are the red snow raiders and now I want to know why somebody using our snowflake would attack us and damn it the ammunition thing I don't know how much time we have on that and there may not be enough time if you have to send somebody else up here to read itthereself or is it themself that doesn't sound right either but I know I disobeyed order command but you don't leave a man behind."
"Private, take a breath and let's keep you lucid."
"You don't leave a man behind and I can't let Simpson go out ahead on his own so I'm going with him command."
"Private, You do not have clearance to go with Simpson."
"Sorry command he's my partner I figure I'll probably lose radio contact where I'm going so this's Private Devlin signing off 'n I did my best sir 'n I ain't letting Simpson go alone."
"Private you are not cleared to enter the afterlife! You will wait for debriefing, do you copy?"
"Sorry sir I got a higher authority I'm talking to on the other line and they say that I gotta go."
"Private, do you copy?"
"Private?"
"Preston you damn well better not be dead!"
"Preston?"
* * *
"Anyone still doubting my ghost certified plan?" Coop asked.
"What's your next trick- catch a star like Munin tried to do?" Malika said.
"I think I'll teach the people magic, like Martegas did." Coop answered.
"So, next move?" Pike asked.
Coop nodded, "Malie and I will detonate the ammo shed, you can start the insurrection. Pick carefully."
Pike Nodded, I'm on it.
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