GZ Tales: Percival's Tale Part 6

 

At that last shack, a burly man with a thick beard sat on a chair of branches and logs. His beard hid his mouth completely but that didn’t stop him from spitting some tobacco as Percival and Vicki approached.

“Can I do fer ya?” The man said with a tone that indicated he had little interest in doing anything for them.

“We’d like to use a pirogue to go out to an old sugar plantation. Can you help us?” Vicki asked.

The man stood up with a solemn expression. “That place ain’t right.” He said it with a tone that was cold and flat. It made Vicki’s heart skip a beat.

“It’s very important,” Percival said.

“Folks come sometimes to rent my pirogues. If you want one, it’ll be a hunnert dollars.”

“That’s really expensive to rent a pirogue,” Vicki said.

“So’s replacin’ ‘em when they don’t come back.”

“Why don’t they come back?” Vicki wondered more and more what she got herself into, but was too stubborn to do anything else.

“You got the money?” The man didn’t flinch at her question.

Percival handed him a gold Civil War coin. “It’s authentic and worth enough to buy ten of your pirogues.”

The man raised an eyebrow as he studied the coin. He nodded, put the coin in his pocket and gestured to the dock.

“But why don’t they come back?” Vicki pressed the question again.

“Jus’ you remember it’s his swamp.” The man went into his shack and abruptly shut the door.

Percival walked to the small dock and selected a pole and pirogue. He opened the blanket and put on his gun belt. As Vicki stepped into the pirogue, Percival took her by the arm.

“This is where we part company,” Percival said.

Vicki jerked her arm away. “Heck no! I’m coming with you. I’ve come this far after all.”

“I can’t guarantee your safety. Furthermore, I couldn’t forgive myself if anything happened to you.”

“I can take care of myself just fine! Like it or not, you’re stuck me Captain Louis Percival, and I won’t take no for an answer!” Vicki sat down in the pirogue and refused to move.

Percival sighed in defeat and grasped the pole to push them out on the water. It was no use arguing. He just hoped he could keep her alive. He stabbed the pole into the muddy bottom of the swamp and with a heavy shove, they were on their way.

Drifting into the swamp was fairly open at first, but soon they had to navigate between the wide trunks of the cypress trees. Once they were well out of view of the shack community, Percival paused to set his pistol on the bottom of the pirogue. As it did back at the bar, the pistol spun and finally pointed a direction further south. He holstered his weapon and returned to pushing them across the water. The sun shone through the branches in cascades of bright light that enhanced the natural green beauty of their surroundings. Life teemed around them. Small turtles jumped off floating logs with splashing echoes. Tree frogs watched them go by from tree trunks and reeds. Even the spider webs shined in the scattered beams of sunlight. Vicki flinched as a Copperhead snake gracefully glided by on the water. Percival ignored it, focused on the mission ahead.

They lost track of time as they drifted. It could have been an hour or two when they could see a decrepit rooftop just over some high foliage about a hundred yards ahead. No clear path to it could be seen for land yet. Percival could tell, they would have to circle around in the swamp to find their way.

“You’ve been pushing us a long time,” Vicki said. “Would you like me to take over?”

“I would never put man’s job on a woman,” Percival said, believing he was being chivalrous.

“Oh you really are from the Civil War!”

“What?”

“You have a lot to learn about the ways of women today! I’ll have you know…”

She was interrupted by a loud splash and the pirogue flipping into the air. Percival and Vicki were tossed opposite directions into the murky water. Even with his head submerged, Percival could hear Vicki’s screams of terror. He struggled to get his head above water and stand on the slick mud below. Percival managed to cling to a tree trunk and pull himself up. He wiped the muck away from his eyes frantically.

Seeing the massive body towering over them, Percival instinctively drew his pistol. As his eyes started focus, he stared in disbelief. It had arms and legs like a man, if any man stood 14 feet tall. It was green and scaled with moss hanging from prehistoric plates going down its back. Its head was that of a giant alligator; big enough to snap an average alligator in half. Its mouth was open to show off rows of dagger sharp teeth.

GZ Tales: Percival's Tale Part 5

 

In a world where everything was so big and loud, the museum was smaller than Percival expected. It reminded him of a Town Hall he had seen once. When they went through the double doors, Percival paused at yet another bewildering view. Glass cases with relics of the war filled the single room building from corner to corner. Uniforms, sabers, and guns were all on display from both sides of the conflict. In the middle of the room sat a cannon. Seeing it like that, was eerie in its silence. Percival wondered how many men it cut down on its journey to this resting place. For the Captain, it was literally yesterday that these things were active and in use. Now they were displayed with the wear, fading and rust of generations. Percival gazed at the ring on his finger and realized that, he too, was a relic. He wondered if soon he would show his age like these items around him.

“Welcome to the Civil War Museum,” said the heavy man behind the counter. He had a bushy mustache that hid his upper lip and thick glasses that made his eyes look bulged. “I’m Reginald. Is there anything I can show you?”

“Actually, there might be,” Vicki said. “Do you have information on officers who were in the war?”

“I have info on the major historical figures. If you aren’t looking for that, I have some files on soldiers who fought here in Louisiana. What’s the name?”

“Colonel Amon Le Fey,” Percival piped in.

“Le Fey, Le Fey,” Reginald repeated as he moved towards a filing cabinet. “Union or Confederate?”

“Confederate.”

Reginald pulled a thick book from the top of the filing cabinet and opened it on the counter. He leafed through several pages.

“Aha, there is a Colonel Amon Le Fey listed in here.”

“Great!” Vicki said. “What does it say about him?”

“It says; he led a regiment of soldiers away from the Battle of Irish Bend to engage incoming Union reinforcements led by Captain Louis Percival.”

Vicki shot a look of surprise to Percival who shrugged.

“It goes on to say it was a bloody fight that ended with the disappearance of both leading officers.” Reginald adjusted his glasses. “That’s easy enough to believe. A lot of soldiers went to unmarked graves back then; even officers.”

“Does it say anything else about Le Fey?” Percival pressed.

“Yes. It says he owned a sugar plantation a bit south of the battle site. That would all be dangerous swampland now.”

“That’s where I have to go. Thank you, Reginald!” Percival turned and walked out of the building.

“What?” Reginald looked after him dumfounded.

“It’s okay. He just does that. Thanks, sweetie.” Vicki followed Percival out to the car. “What are you going to do?”

“ I’m going the way my pistol pointed and Reginald said.”

“You know you can’t just go stomping through the swamp right? You’re going to need a boat or a pirogue; probably a pirogue.”

“What’s a pirogue?”

“A smaller boat for navigating narrower places in the swamps. Look, I think I know where to drive so we can get a look okay?”

“Alright.”

Percival didn’t want Vicki along too far into his dangerous mission. He didn’t want to endanger her. If anything happened to her, he doubted he could ever forgive himself.

They travelled back roads and lesser highways several miles south. The further they went, the thicker the surrounding wilderness became. They didn’t have to go far before any distant view was blocked out by tall cypress trees. Spanish moss hung long from branches and water shined between the bases of the trees. The sun barely shone through some places, making them dark and eerie. Finally, they came to a place where the only driving left was off the road. Swampland stretched out around them for miles.

Percival stepped to the edge of the road to survey his chances of passage. A small alligator splashed into the water and vanished. From where Percival stood, travel on foot was impossible. He could see he would be up to his waist in water with nothing to hold on to but cypress trunks. As he looked around, there were no paths available in any direction. Vicki stood not far behind him.

“Do you have any more of those gold coins?” Vicki asked.

“A couple, why?”

“I saw some shacks near an off road. Maybe someone there will let us use a pirogue.”

Percival nodded and they got back into the car.

The small community of shacks was built on posts over the water accessible by long elevated walkways. Vicki parked the car in a muddy lot with a couple of trucks and another car so they could walk to the wooden docks. The walkways were well built, thick and solid with heavy logs. Percival could tell right away that these were people who could live off their environment. Animal skins could be seen in one area but mostly there were crawfish traps and fishing equipment. There were several pirogues all around. Every shack had at least one and there were seven shacks in all. The shacks were made from various materials of wood and metal. Percival brought out the bundle that held his sword and pistol. Vicki had wrapped them in a small blanket.

The first man they came to eyed them suspiciously from rocking chair. He appeared as old as the swamp with leathery skin and calloused hands. He was thin and sinewy, but he didn’t look weak. When asked about a pirogue, he said nothing but pointed to a shack at the far end of the walk. As they followed his directions, they felt the eyes of the community watching them. They were watched with interest. One woman even came out of her shack to watch them. It was the kind of observation that made Percival and Vicki uncomfortable. Expressions on the people’s faces weren’t the welcoming kind.

GZ Tales: Percival's Tale Part 2

 

“Weirdo,” said a man in leather and chains passing in the opposite direction of the business woman.

Percival only knew of mohawks on native Indians. The short purple one on the man in leather was ghastly. Percival blinked several times, but all the sights remained. It was so much to take in that he quickly felt dizzy. He didn’t even realize he had holstered his pistol, but had his hand on the handle.

“Must be one of those reenactors,” said another man walking by.

“Reenactors,” Percival muttered.

“Hey, is that gun real?” another woman asked.

Captain Percival moved his hand away from his pistol and realized that he was the one who didn’t belong here. He had to find someplace to think. He had to find someplace to learn about where he was. With several nervous glances around himself, Percival turned and walked quickly down a street less busy.

Not far away, down that same street, Vicky washed down the bar in bored slow motion. Only 3 people were in Frank’s Bar that late afternoon and Vicky didn’t expect many more. She tied back her reddish blonde hair as she gazed at the loving couple in the far corner. It would be nice just to have someone to talk to. Sadly, the only person who wanted to talk to her was old Scat. Vicky wanted nothing to do with Scat and usually tried to avoid eye contact. Inevitably, this never worked, and Scat would always wind up at the bar. Just the lint in his beard made her wonder if he ever looked in a mirror. Scat drank too much, smelled terrible and was always far too interested in Vicky for her comfort. He reminded her of some bad cheese she found behind her refrigerator once.

“Hey, Doll,” Scat said with a toothy grin as he sat at the bar. He rubbed his grimy fingers on the beer mug, smearing it. Vicky never looked forward to touching anything Scat touched.

“Doesn’t look like you need a refill yet,” Vicky looked away hoping for someone new to come in the door.

“Aw, you know I love talking to you, Doll. You know, we should go out sometime.”

“You’re really killing me, Scat,” Vicky moved a few feet down the bar and pretended to see something out the window.

“Well, I’ve warned you before; I am a lady killer.”

Vicky tried to ignore Scat. Seeing the man outside seemed like a sudden dream come true. Even with the man’s Civil War attire, she thought he had to be safer company than the old coot. Vicky couldn’t take her eyes off him. He looked lost and kept staring at the bar. Vicky thought he was gathering courage to come in. Maybe he’d never been in a bar before; Vicky had no idea. As he finally came toward the building, Vicky felt elation that someone, anyone, was coming in.

Captain Percival couldn’t steady his nerves as he put a hand on the door latch. All the strange lights were like no tavern he had ever known. Still, he always learned about new places at taverns and pubs. It seemed like the safest idea, or he hoped it was. With a deep breath, Percival opened the door and stepped inside.

At first, he found relief in the fact that the place was not crowded. Then he felt their eyes on him and knew he still stood out as odd in this strange new land. The couple in the corner shrugged and went back to their conversation. Vicky and Scat still stared at him in wonder.

“Can I help you?” Vicky finally found her voice as Percival approached the bar.

“I hope so. I’m afraid I’m lost.”

“Well, I don’t know where they are doing any Civil War reenactments right now.”

“Reenactment,” Percival said slowly, “I’ve been hearing that a lot today.”

“Well sure!” Scat said, “That’s what they call it when you fellers get all dressed up and act out your battles and stuff. Can’t say it’s real popular around here though.”

“Act out,” Percival repeated again, “Do you mean like a play?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Scat said, “I’m sure you would know better than me.”

“A very loud play,” Vicky interjected, wondering about Percival’s state of mind. “Maybe you should have a drink?”

Percival stepped closer to the bar, thinking that would be a fine idea. That’s when Vicky noticed the pistol on his hip.

“Uh, we don’t allow guns in here.”

Percival paused, “Oh. I’m sorry.” To the surprise of everyone in the bar, Percival drew the pistol and offered it to Vicky handle first. Vicky had no idea what to do or say.

“You know,” Scat said, “It’s probably just a replica. All them fellers have ‘em. I’m sure it wouldn’t be any problem.”

“Yeah. Right.” Vicky said, “Why don’t you just leave it in the holster?”

“Okay,” Percival holstered the pistol and decided not to correct them on its status as a replica or not.

The couple in the corner decided to leave quietly, but Vicky and Scat were too busy to notice. Percival’s mind spun as he considered all he heard so far.