Amazon Jihad:
To the Death
Written by Captain Fun
Based on Characters Created by
Captain Fun and Shaun O’Donnell
©2006
Leave no one standing.
Part I
“And he piled upon the
whale's white hump, the sum of all the rage and hate felt by his whole race. If
his chest had been a cannon, he would have shot his
heart upon it.”
-Moby Dick, by Herman
Melville
One
I have seen wars waged. I have seen leaders
fall. I have seen empires end. I’ve looked into the eyes of a young man
microseconds before his life was taken by my hand. I have fought and bled and
cried and hurt for a cause that I believed was just and good. I’ve done these
things, and I will do them again.
Victor Perez is sitting outside the
restaurant in sunny
I sat down at the table and Victor, an elder
man in his fifties with thin balding black hair and a pencil-thin moustache,
takes a sip of coffee.
“¿Cómo es su café?” I asked, “How is your coffee?”
“Bien,” said
Victor. “Usted mira
bien.” You look well.
“Gracias. Dígame donde está
Manuel, y puedo asegurarle paso en América.” Tell me
where Manuel is and you will have safe passage to
“Tengo ya paso a
América.” I already have passage to
“¿Qué?” I said.
A van pulled up next to us and four men in
bullet-proof vests wearing
“What’s going on?” I demanded. “He would’ve
talked! I’m with you guys, division 6H dash 7, what’s this about?”
“We know about your mission, Johnny Terrace.
6H-7 was terminated this morning, all projects cancelled.”
“By who?” I asked.
“You’ll have to find out,” said the young
man.
“Like hell,” I said, and kicked him in the
throat, then I opened the door and jumped from the
moving vehicle, rolling as I landed. I stood up and ran through the streets. I
heard gunfire and the whizzing sound of bullets trying to get me, but I kept running.
I ran through a market place and heard more gunfire after me. I turned down an
alley and tripped over a trashcan. I got up, but there was no place to go. It
was a dead end, and they had me cornered.
“Lie face-down with your hands out,” said an
agent. I cooperated. They put me in cuffs and the last thing I remembered was
the feeling of the back of a gun hitting me in the head.
I woke up in a small detention cell. I sat
up and saw a black guard standing by the door.
“Good, Mr. Terrace. You’re up,” he said.
“Where am I?” I said.
“Officer’s holding cell,
“What do you know?”
The officer entered the cell and closed the
door, then got really close.
“All I know is, you and your division were
sniffing is some places you shouldn’t have been in. I don’t know anything
beyond that. But you are in some serious shit.”
The guard stood up.
“Now, I’ve been instructed to escort you to
the debriefing room once you’ve found your strength. Can you walk?”
“I can walk,” I said, and I stood up.
The guard ushered me down a hallway, down
some stairs, and through a tunnel into a highly-guarded area. He stopped at a
closed door.
“Here you are, sir.”
“Thank you,” I said.
I walked into a small office. Sitting at the
desk working on a laptop was an old comrade of mine, General Arnold Westlake.
“General,” I said.
“Sergeant,” he said. The word stung.
“Why was I so violently pulled from my
duties? What happened to Martinson and my division?”
“Between you and me, Martinson is dead. You
and your colleagues are a disgrace to this country.”
“According to who?” I asked.
“According to the President of the
“And I get results!” I shouted.
“You get mortalities!”
“So what, I’m fired now?” I asked.
“Expelled,” said
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“As of yesterday, the
“But I have a wife…” I said.
“She is no longer of your concern.”
“Damn you
I have seen wars waged. I have seen leaders
fall. I have seen empires end. I have fought and bled and cried and hurt for a
cause that I believed was just and good. I have done these things, and I will
do them again… this time it’s for me.
Two
The plane could only take us from
“Is that your girl?” he asked me.
“She was,” I said. “She’s dead now.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.”
“You headed for the Ice Fortress too?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Who were you stationed with?”
“I was a SEAL.”
“Aw man,” he said. “You must’ve screwed up
big time to go to the ice fortress.”
“Not really,” I said.
“Yeah, well, me neither.”
“That a fact?” I said, still looking deep
into Charla’s eyes.
“I was in the Marines, sent in on a mission
with four other guys. The intel
was wrong, though, and the other guys got killed. I was the only one that made
it out alive. Somehow the blame got pushed on me. So they sent me to Rura Penthe. What about you?”
“I did my job, served my country, and some
asshole decided he didn’t like me.”
“Huh,” said the Marine. “Looks
like we’re both not wanted by our country.”
“This is only temporary,” I said.
“I hate to tell you this, but you go to the
Ice Fortress, you never get out.”
“We’ll see about that,” I said.
“My name’s Jake Peters.”
“Johnny Terrace,” I said. We shook hands.
The bus continued to drive through the snow. It was almost twelve hours later
when we reached Rura Penthe.
We all unloaded from the bus and went out
into the cold. Rura Penthe,
we discovered, was a large underground prison, hidden deep within
“I am Warden Phillips of Rura
Penthe Penitentiary, known as the Ice Fortress. You
may call me the Sheliak, which means ‘polar bear’ in
my native language. I grew up in the
“I lead a simple life inside this fortress.
You will find that my inmates also lead very simple lives. You will be here the
rest of your life, so my advice to you is learn to accept it. If you try to escape, great. I will send my bears after you
and they will have a feast on your bones. If you still manage to escape, I will
hunt you down myself, and that is a fury none of you wish to feel.
“Today is the first day of the rest of your
lives. Make good use of your time here. Because you’re on my
time now.”
The Sheliak turned
and walked back down the steps and into the dark chasm of Rura
Penthe. The guards then signaled us to follow.
We were directed down a long hallway and
into a line forming at a desk, where we received our new blue uniforms, a
towel, a Bible, and a toothbrush. We were also assigned cell mates. I got put
with Jake.
Our cell was cement with a small enclosed
gate for the toilet, to add some illusion of privacy, and two beds on opposite
sides of the room. I took the right side, he took the left. Neither of us had
anything other than what they’d given us, so we simply sat.
Jake said, “I’m only twenty-five. I wonder
how long I can stand it here.”
“You’ll make it,” I said. “I’ll make sure of
that.”
“We gotta stick
together, like brothers.”
“Don’t worry, Jake. We’re brothers.”
“For life?” Jake asked.
I smiled. “For life.”
Jake and I clasped hands. It was the
beginning of a good friendship. I knew if I was going to get out of there, I
would need help. I figured Jake could be all the help I needed.
Three
It’s been two months, and life in Rura Penthe has been one day at a
time. I miss
I replayed the whole mission, top to bottom.
There was nothing wrong. The only thing I could think was that something was
going on with
I worked out every day. And every day I read
my Bible. I prayed for God to give me an opening. I prayed for forgiveness, but
I knew one thing… if I ever got out of the Ice Fortress, I’d have to do some
things that God wouldn’t be very proud of. Still, the Bible was a good book to
read, if only for hope and guidance.
I was reading 1 Corinthians in the mess hall
during lunch when a biscuit
landed on the back of my book. I set the book down and saw that
one of the Air Force guys threw it at me. Air Force and Navy don’t get along
very well. The Air Force figures because they know how to fly, they’re smarter
than the guys who swim. It’s a lot more complicated than that, but mainly it
comes down to them being ignorant. They don’t realize that a Navy SEAL can
break your fingers twelve different places, making it hard to use the throttle
in the cockpit, or whatever the hell those things are called.
But if there’s a friendly rivalry between
the Navy and the Air Force in the real world, there’s a real one in prison. Air
Force hates Navy in prison, and will do anything to make living hell even worse
for them.
The biscuit thrower is a young pilot named
Washburn, who’s about ten years younger than me and yet the leader of his
group. I approach him with the biscuit.
“Is this yours?” I ask. Washburn, or simply
“
“Uh, no, no,” he says. “No, I think the
forecast today said partially cloudy with a chance of biscuit.” His friends
laughed.
I leaned forward. “Listen, ‘Wash,’ I know
you think you’re hot shit, but I could rearrange your face in a matter of seconds
to the point where even your mother, who probably doesn’t even know you’re
alive, wouldn’t even recognize you.”
“What’d you say about my mother?” asked
Two pilots jumped up and grabbed me by the
arms. I used them as leverage and kicked
When I turned around, I was hit in the face
by a polar bear claw, which sent me back. The bear stepped forward and I took a
fighting position. The bear went to claw me again. I grabbed the claw, blocking
the blow, then rammed my fist hard into its chest. Just
then I saw Jake get cornered by another polar bear. I kicked the first bear in
the midsection, which sent it flying back on a table, then
I grabbed a fork and dove on the second one, jamming the fork into its side.
The bear roared and turned around, whapping at me with its mighty claw. I
ducked the blow and sent an uppercut into the bear’s chin, breaking a tooth.
The bear let out a squeal. Just then a guard came behind me and shot me in the
back of the thigh. I feld the sting
burn in my hip. I went down on one knee. The bear started to attack, but
just then the Sheliak entered the room and whistled,
signaling the bear to desist.
“Well now, a little bit of excitement for
Loki and Cerberus. I hope you weren’t planning on killing my bears,” said the Sheliak. “I think three days of solitary confinement will
be just fine for the two of you.”
The guards drug Jake and me out of the room
and down the hallway, down the flights of stairs, into the basement, and into
two solitary confinement rooms, which were wet and cold and made of concrete
and smelled like shit.
“Jake,” I yelled. “Can you hear me?”
“Yeah, Johnny,” yelled Jake. “I hear ya.”
“We’ve gotta get
out of here Jake,” I said.
“Yeah,” said Jake. “But
how?”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “We’ll think of
something.”
Four
It was a week later and Jake and I were in
our cell during free time. I was in my bed nursing my leg. The Sheliak was kind enough to give me a crutch for it. I used
it as sparingly as possible, which also meant I hardly left my cell, even for
food. Jake was concerned about this.
“Johnny, you’ve got to eat. You’ve got to
keep your strength up so we can escape.”
I grunted. “I’ve gotten out of worse
situations in worse conditions.”
“No you haven’t,” said Jake. “We’re in the
middle of a frozen wasteland. There’s nothing but ice in all directions for at
least a hundred miles. You’ll need all your strength to get out of this one.”
I grunted and turned slightly, the pain in
my thigh was excruciating.
“What were you before you came here?” asked
Jake.
“A teacher,” I said. “When I wasn’t a SEAL,
I was a teacher.”
“What did you teach?”
“Geometry.”
“Well maybe you can use some of that
knowledge to plan our escape.”
“I can’t.” I said.
“Why not?” asked Jake.
I shifted in my bed. “I wasn’t a very good
teacher. I was much better at killing people and saving the world.”
“Look, Johnny,” said Jake, and he sat
forward, “you were sent here under some pretty fishy circumstances. Your whole
life was stolen from you and you don’t even care why anymore because some chump
with a gun shot you in the leg. You got a wife?”
I remembered
“Do you think she’d want you to waste away
in some prison cell in a remote outpost in
I didn’t have to think about this one, but I
was quiet all the same. He was right, and I was being a quitter.
“Well?” he asked.
“What’s your plan?” I said.
“First thing’s first,” he said. “We get you
back into shape.”
The next day during free time we went to the
weight room and I lifted weights. Jake then helped me with some exercises for
my leg, which hurt like hell, but needed to be done. We spent every other day
in the weight room. On the other days, we walked around our floor during free
time. Jake would keep a steady pace for us, and while I was limping, we made
progress with each new day.
After about a month, my leg had begun to
feel much better. I could put a good deal of weight on it without feeling any
pain, which was good. But Jake said that wasn’t good enough. We needed to be
even better.
Our walks around our floor turned into runs.
I was getting faster. I began doing push-ups and sit-ups in my cell every
morning and after every meal. I was beginning to get in the best shape of my
life. Jake was too.
Then one day, Jake and I were resting in our
cell. Jake turned to me.
“I think we’re ready,” he said.
“How long has it been?” I asked.
“At least four months,” he said. “You feel
ready?”
“Definitely,” I said. “What’s the plan?”
At free time the next day, we approached the
two guards by the personnel quarters and took them out quickly and quietly,
without being seen. Then we broke into a guard’s living quarters and took two
heavy coats and a loaf of bread. We then put on the two officers’ shoes and
hats and went towards the loading dock, where Rura Penthe received all of its shipments. We nodded to the
guards there, who probably figured we were going on a cigarette break.
We went up the lift into the blistering cold
and were met with an unexpected surprise. The Sheliak,
about twelve guards with guns, and the two polar bears were there waiting for
us.
“Aw, shit,” said Jake.
One of the guards fired his rifle right into
Jake’s chest. Jake flew backwards and slid in the snow, lifeless.
“Jake!” I yelled. The guards took aim and
prepared to kill me.
“Wait,” said the Sheliak,
“I have an alternative for him. Bring him to my chambers.”
The guards encircled me, while I looked
desperately at Jake’s body, which was to be left out in the cold to freeze, a
haunting memorial to the residents of Rura Penthe, the Ice Fortress.
Five
The Sheliak sat me
down in his office and removed his coat, hanging it meticulously in the closet
next to his desk, then he sits down.
“You could be in a lot of trouble, Mr.
Terrace,” said the Sheliak.
“You killed Jake,” I said. “That puts you in
a world of trouble you don’t even want to know about.”
The Sheliak
motioned for his guards to leave. They hesitated, but left the room after a
second look from the Sheliak. Once the guards were
gone, the Sheliak leaned forward and looked at me
right in the eyes.
“I could’ve had you terminated out there
with your compadre and left you with all the other
frozen corpses of those who’ve tried to escape. But I didn’t.”
“Yeah,” I said, “and I’m of course wondering
why.”
“You are an excellent fighter, Mr. Terrace.
I’ve seen you in combat. You’re good. Every few months, I hold a fight between
my prison and another in
“What will I get in return?” I asked. The Sheliak smiled.
“If you win, you get my blind ignorance at
your next escape attempt.”
“And if I lose?” I asked.
“Don’t,” said the Sheliak.
“What guarantee do I have?” I asked.
“Do you believe in yin and yang, Mr.
Terrace?” asked the Sheliak.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s a Chinese philosophy. How in every bit
of evil, there is good, and in every bit of good, there is evil. Do you believe
in it?”
“I guess,” I said.
“What I’m trying to say is, I may be
cold-blooded, but I’m not a monster.” He handed me a newspaper that was open to
a national page. The headline said, “Kansas Schoolteacher Runs for Office.” It
was dated three months ago. I scanned the first paragraph and saw my name. I
looked up at the Sheliak, confused.
“Someone has taken over your life, Johnny,”
said the Sheliak. “Someone wanted you out of the way,
but still in the picture.”
“Why are you showing me this?” I asked.
“Because I work for a government that does
these things to people like you and I’m tired of it. Sure, I get some people
unfit for the uniform here, but most of my inmates were wrongfully put here.
I’m tired of that. I already know God has no place for me in Heaven, but I’d
like to show him I tried to do something right while I was down here. I want
you to fight, win, and get out of here and take back your life.”
“What about Jake?” I asked. “What about his
second chance?”
“I already said I’m going to hell. Let’s not
remind me of it anymore. Are you in?”
I couldn’t come to grips with it. Someone
was taking my life, sleeping with my woman, teaching my students. I vowed right
then I would find whoever was responsible and bury him.
“I’m in,” I said.
For the next three weeks, I trained. I
trained hard. The Sheliak had me on a strict diet of
carbohydrates and vegetables. Suddenly, I was a popular face amongst the
inmates. They were all cheering for me. One day, the Sheliak
removed Jake’s bed and installed a punching bag in the room that hung from the
ceiling. I practiced harder than any tournament I had ever fought in.
In the mornings, the Sheliak
would take me running. I would run in light clothing, which would urge me to
run faster so my body heat would keep me warm.
I did hundreds upon hundreds of sit-ups,
push-ups, and jumping-jacks every day. I lifted weights, I ran, and when I
wasn’t training, I was sleeping.
Finally, the night came. The guards had set
up the ring in the old basketball court that was renovated into a large bomb
shelter approximately fifteen stories below the surface of the ground,
excluding ice. The inmates, Russian and American alike, filed into their seats
around the ring and waited for the fight to begin.
Back in the shower room, the Sheliak was taping my feet and hands.
“Your opponent tonight is Olaf, one of the meanest Russian fighters I’ve seen. He’ll
be a challenge for you, just stay sharp and fast. Keep in mind, elbows and
knees are legal, but once your opponent is down, you must wait for him to get
up. Now Johnny, listen to me.” The Sheliak knelt down
and looked me in the eyes.
“Once you beat him, come to me. Don’t go to
the guards, come to me. Otherwise, I can’t get you out.”
“You’re keeping your promise?” I asked.
“I’m a man of my word,” said the Sheliak. “Now go out and beat him.”
I stood up and walked out of the showers,
wearing a pair of blue shorts and with white tape on my hands and feet. The
room erupted in cheers. Johnny Terrace was in the house, and I was ready to
kick some ass.
I stepped into the ring and stood in my
corner. Soon, out came Olaf, a man I was fortunate to
see was my height and weight, but looked much more worn. He had scars all over
his arms and chest, and his black hair was long and messy. His teeth were
horrid to look at as well. I stepped forward and stood face-to-face with him in
the center of the ring.
He looked at me with a crazed look as the
referee said the rules in English, then in Russian. Finally, the bell rang, and
the fight began.
We moved around the ring in a sort of
practiced dance, circling each other. I was waiting for him to strike. I wanted
to know his power. He was thinking the same thing. So I went first. I did a
spinning kick to the face, adding only a little force. This didn’t even mildly
stun Olaf, who seemed amused. I jabbed him twice in
the face with my left hand, still Olaf didn’t seem to
be perturbed. Finally, I decided to add some force. I punched him twice in the
chest, then elbowed him across the face hard. This
sent Olaf staggering a little, and I could tell it
surprised him.
Olaf then blocked my next punch and grabbed my
throat, picked me up with one hand and slammed me right on the canvass,
knocking the air right out of me. The ref began to count. He got to four and I
was up.
I went for a punch, it was blocked, Olaf kicked me in the face, then did it again, then tried
again, but I ducked and punched him hard in the ribs, then in the face. I went
for a kick, but Olaf caught it and threw me down. I
was up before the ref could count, and I went for a strong left punch. It was
blocked, but I drove my right palm into his chest. This caused him to lean
forward.
I then got him in a headlock with my right
arm and with my left knee I began pounding his ribs. Finally, I flipped him
over and both of us were on our backs. The ref started to count.
The ref was at six by the time we got up. Olaf did a hard right punch into my face which sent my head
spinning. Then he grabbed me by the hair and began choking me on the top rope.
I was being hung on that rope over and over, until finally he let go and I was
sent flying back on the canvas, coughing up blood.
Sweat was in my eyes, blurring my vision. My
face was already cut open by the blows to the head. I could barely hear the ref
as he reached seven… eight… then I remembered the horrifying image of
I stood up at nine. The ref stopped the
count. I was through with Olaf. I wanted to get my
life back. I ran toward him and jumped, taking his head in between my legs.
Then I twisted in mid-air and sent Olaf flying to the
canvas. My legs were still holding tight to his head when we landed. I could
feel the Russian’s neck snap. It was over.
I looked for the Sheliak.
He was standing right at ringside with a towel. Everyone began to enter the
ring, some cheering, some booing. I made my way out of
there with the Sheliak. It was a quiet escape.
We went back to his office, where I changed
into proper clothes for the cold. Then I turned to the Sheliak.
“Thank you for this,” I said.
“Don’t thank me,” said the Sheliak. “I’m a terrible person. But you, on the other
hand, are meant for greatness. Get your life back, Johnny Terrace. Now go.”
The Sheliak
signaled to the door and I made my escape, down the hallway, through the
corridor, up the winding staircase, and into the cold. The bitter sting of the
snow was the most warmth I had felt in months. But there was still coldness in
my heart. And those responsible for my stolen life were going to pay… with
theirs.
Part II
“Hear my cries, hear my
call
lend me your ears, see my fall
see my errors, see my faults
time halts, see my loss
Know I’m lacking,
backtracking
where I met you, pistol packing
itchy finger, trigger happy
try to trap me, bad rap
Wiretap me, backstab me
bring the faith, fall from grace
tell me lies, time flies
close your eyes
Come with me.”
-from “Come With Me” by Puff Daddy
Six
I’m not sure how many days passed because in
After what seemed like two weeks without any
food or drink, I collapsed and blacked out. I lay there in the snow and I
remember being ready to accept death. I felt the cold take over me. I didn’t
fight it.
I went into a deep, dreamless sleep. Time
ceased. Reality ceased. In a way, I was dead.
When I awoke, I was in a large hut made of
ice, an actual igloo. I was wrapped in four thick fur blankets, my head with a
fur cap on it. I felt warm, but weak. I knew I had been rescued, but by whom?
A man came into the hut through a thin wood
door. He looked to be in his fifties, with somewhat long brown hair and brown
skin, resembling a Native American.
“How long?” I managed to say through an arid mouth. The
man smiled.
“It’s been about a month since we found
you,” he said. “You have the heart of a polar bear to have survived this long.”
“Water…” I whispered.
The man poured water from his canteen into
my mouth. It was a wonderful feeling. I almost coughed on it, I was so eager to
receive it.
“I will notify the others. We will make a
salmon for you. I hope you like fish.”
He gave me his canteen and left the hut. I
drank the entire thing, swishing the water around my crusted dry mouth. It was
the first time I truly was grateful to be drinking water.
The man and another came back in a while later.
This one looked older, in his seventies maybe. He spoke to me.
“What is your name, stranger?” he asked.
“Johnny,” I said. “Johnny Terrace.”
“My people have been calling you Boolrai, which means ‘hard to knock down’ in our native
tongue. From now on, you are Johnny ‘Boolrai’ Terrace
of the Hannauit tribe. I am Chieftain Nichka. You are welcome here.”
“Thank you, Chieftain,” I said. “I am
honored.”
A woman came in just then with a plate of
cooked salmon. It looked delicious. I devoured the whole thing with my hands in
about two minutes. I didn’t realize I was being sloppy, but also didn’t care. I
was starving, and this was the best-tasting food I’d had in a month.
“Where exactly am I?” I asked Nichka.
“On the Alaskan coast, near the ocean.”
“I see,” I said.
“Where are you from?” asked the woman.
“
“And do you have someone in
I remembered
“I hope,” I said.
“Roshi, too many
questions for Boolrai. He’s still too weak,” said Nichka.
“No,” I said. “She may ask. It helps me
remember who I am anyway.”
“And who are you?” asked Roshi.
“I’m beginning to wonder,” I said.
“What do you mean?” asked Nichka, now curious.
“I was a trained killer for the
“That is something which you will need to
figure out for yourself,” said Nichka. “But for now,
we have a celebration to attend to, and we want you to come.”
I stood up slowly and found my strength. Nichka handed me a crutch to lean on and I walked out of
the hut.
Outside there were several huts all placed
in a large circle around a huge bonfire. Several
people danced and sang around the fire and ate and laughed. A child came up to
me and handed me a beaded bracelet.
“Wear this in time of battle,” he said, and
ran off. I smiled and slipped the bracelet on my left wrist. It fit perfectly.
Nichka approached me with another man who looked
older than him with dark long hair and a scar under his right eye.
“Boolrai, this is Mindo, my older cousin. I may be chieftain, but he is the
wisest of us.”
Mindo smiled. “You are brave to have lived so
long outside the cold without food or drink. This makes you worthy of the name Boolrai.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“When you are well, I hope you will join me
in a climbing expedition. Do you like to climb?” asked Mindo.
“Yes,” I said, “when the opportunity
arises.”
“Good. Until then, get your rest. You are welcome
in my home if you wish to stay there.”
“Thank you, but I think Nichka
is providing nicely,” I said.
“Well, the offer still stands,” said Mindo. “Now if you don’t mind, I must borrow Nichka for a few moments.”
Mindo and Nichka went
away and I took a seat on a small bench outside the hut and watched the
festivities continue. Just then Roshi came up and sat
down beside me.
“You are doing well, Boolrai?”
she asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “Are you, Roshi?”
“Yes. The sun will finally go down soon, and
then it will be night for a while. I have a question to ask you.”
“Shoot.”
“Shoot?”
“Ask,” I said.
“Is your woman in
I smiled. “
“Do you think you will see her again?” she
asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Right now she’s
with an impostor who looks like me. I don’t know if I’ll be able to live with
that.”
“So what will you do?” asked Roshi.
“I might stay here.”
“Why?”
“Because my life doesn’t want me anymore,” I
said.
“What would happen if you go back to your old
life?”
“That’s a tough question,” I said. “I’d
probably get killed, or find that I was better off in jail. Things change
without your permission, and that leads you to wonder if you’re really a part
of the life process or just standing in its way. Does God want me in
“I can’t answer that,” said Roshi. I looked her in her beautiful brown eyes.
“Yes you can.”
I leaned forward and took her into my arms
and we kissed a passionate kiss. Roshi embraced me and
the two of us held each other tightly. At that moment, I knew, God didn’t want
me in that life anymore. All that I had accomplished, all that I had learned
and done was nothing now. I was Boolrai, and I was
never going back.
Seven
I had stayed there for two weeks, enough
time to find my strength. During that time, I had decided to stay amongst the Hannauits. Roshi and I had
developed a strong romance, and the two of us had begun contemplating marriage.
I had even accepted Boolrai as my name.
Then one day, after a long day of fishing, Mindo approached me with climbing gear and announced it was
time.
“The glacier awaits,”
he said. “Are you ready?”
I smiled, “Let me get some things.”
We walked several miles to the foot of a
giant glacier which looked like a mountain of ice. We took our gear out with
our ropes and various axes and climbing tools, and we began our ascent.
Then we climbed. And we climbed. And then we
stopped for a cold fish sandwich. Then climbed some more. Finally we came to
the entrance of a small cave, and Mindo went inside
and helped me in.
“This is where we will camp for the night,”
said Mindo.
We unpacked our gear and got out our
blankets and sleeping ponchos, then we laid in the cavern. We were silent only
for a few minutes, then Mindo spoke.
“What if we didn’t finish climbing this
glacier?” he asked.
I sat up on my side and faced him. “What do
you mean?” I said.
“What if we just decided not to do the rest
and went down?”
“Then I guess the glacier would win,” I
said.
“Ah,” he said. “Just asking.”
“Mindo, I can’t go
back to
“It’s not what you can or can’t do,” said Mindo. “It’s something you have to do. It’s something you
set out to do. You owe it to yourself to finish this quest you’ve set out on,
just like we both owe it to ourselves to finish climbing this glacier.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Of course it isn’t,” said Mindo. “But you seemed pretty up for the challenge when we
found you half dead in the snow without the proper gear. You call yourself Boolrai, yet when given the opportunity to back down, you
take it in a heartbeat. That doesn’t sound like Boolrai
to me. That sounds more like chicken-shit.”
“Then what should I do?” I asked, angrily.
“Leave. This is no place for you. We will
give you what you need, but you must get your old life back. Otherwise, what’s
the point in finishing this ascent?”
“What about me and Roshi?”
I asked.
“If Roshi loves
you, she will understand. But you have to be a man. You have to step up and
face this challenge. Then you will be Boolrai. Then you
will be invincible.”
I didn’t want to admit it, but I knew Mindo was right. The next day, we completed our ascent, then made our way down. When we got back to the village, I
told Nichka and Roshi the
news of my departure.
Roshi understood. “You will never forget me, will
you?” she asked.
“Never,” I said.
We rubbed noses, then
I kissed her on the lips. Nichka then cleared his
throat.
“Boolrai, we will
provide you with a kayak and a backpack full of food. There is a dock not far
from here where we get some supplies. The journey will not be long, but we wish
you the best of luck, and if you ever need our help, we will be there.”
“Thank you, Chieftain,” I said. “Thank all
of you.”
I left the village a changed man. I was
stronger, mentally, physically, and spiritually. I was born again. I was Johnny
“Boolrai” Terrace.
Eight
I’ve ignored the fact that it’s been two
years since I’ve been on the American mainland. What I do notice is that
General Westlake is running for President and is high in the polls.
I’m in some nice clothes at a charity
auction at a clubhouse in
I used an old contact of mine, Skippy, to
get me an invitation into the party. Now I look nice, and I’m ready to kick
some ass.
I find him on the balcony enjoying a glass
of wine and looking out at the large swimming pool.
“Nice party,” I said.
“I’ve been to better,” said Jonathan.
“Allow me to introduce myself,” I said. “The
name’s Johnny Terrace.”
He immediately went for his gun, which I
kicked out of his hands, then punched him in the face, sending him staggering
back. I went for another punch, but he blocked and caught two punches in my
chest, then forced me down on the rail and tried to break my neck. I kicked
upward and took hold of him and both of us went splashing into the swimming
pool. It was about that time about twenty cops surrounded us. It was me they
wanted. The imposter got off clean.
It had been two days in jail when the guard
came over and said I was free. I went to get my things and saw Nichka standing there, wearing nice clothes and looking
very different than before.
“Tried a little too early for your revenge I
think,” he said.
“Yeah,” I said. “How’d you know?”
Nichka laughed. “I know things.”
Nichka took me to an old house in the
“I have to get him at home,” I said. “I have
to get him when he least expects it.”
It took another month, but Nichka and I scouted the neighborhood and the house and
came up with the best way to take down the fake Jonathan Terrace as well as
clear my name.
Then the night came, and my moment was at
hand.
I waited until
Then something happened I never thought
could happen. A young boy, about two years old, came into the room wearing Whinee-the-Pooh pajamas. He looked up at me, a sweet face
with
“What are you doing?” asked the child.
While I knew this was
“I’m going to kill your father,” I said.
The child scrambled to the telephone and
dialed 9-11. I knew it was just a matter of time, so I ran upstairs and banged
open the door. The impostor, sleeping with my wife, woke up startled, as was
Doris, who covered herself with the blanket.
“Jonathan” stood up. “Alright you son of a
bitch,” he said, “you want me, come and get me.”
I fired and hit Jonathan in the shoulder.
Jonathan kicked my gun out of my hand and then punched me hard in the face,
sending me staggering back into the hallway. We moved into the living area
where the child was. He hid himself in the laundry room away from the action.
Just then sirens flared up and the police
had the whole house surrounded. We
continued our struggle into the kitchen, where the imposter opened a cabinet and
pulled out another gun. I bolted for the front door but Jonathan shot me in the
side and I stumbled with the impact and went right through the door, into the
sight of the police.
Jonathan stepped outside and stood over me.
One of the policemen ordered him to put the
gun down.
“Hey, I’m Jonathan Terrace,” said the
impostor. “I’ve got this under control.” Just then he accidentally pointed the
gun at the policemen, a big mistake, because his body then received
approximately forty rounds, all fatal.
Jonathan Terrace, the impostor, was dead.
And now I, simply Johnny Terrace laid on his own
doorstep a complete mess.
“Check his fingerprints and compare them to
mine,” I said to one of the detectives. “I’m the real John Terrace.”
“We’ll get them,” said the detective.
Just then the little boy came out and knelt
beside the fallen corpse of his father, tears soaking his face. I was put on a
stretcher and put into an ambulance, but the sight of that child’s horrified
anguish would forever haunt me.
But I had to stay focused. Objective one was
completed. My name was cleared and the impostor was dead. The next objective
would be even harder. Take down the presidential candidate General Westlake.
Nine
I got taken to the police, the police took
me to the feds, then the
The first agent, a small white guy with a
receding hairline, spoke. “Mr. Terrace I’m special agent Hauser, from Division
6H-7.”
I looked up from my coffee.
“I thought they closed that division,” I
said.
The other agent, a larger black fellow who
looked like he could take me on if we ever were on different terms, stepped
forward, “It was reopened last night, after the discovery of the fake Jonathan
Terrace and certain ties to former General Arnold Westlake, who up until two
hours ago was in candidacy for President of the United States.”
My mind began racing. It was all making
sense.
“So
“That’s correct. We’re just not sure what
his scheme was,” said Hauser.
“That’s where you come in,” said the other
agent. “You are the last survivor of Division 6H-7. Now, whatever business you
were doing, you were about to uncover some seriously important information that
would be dangerous to General Westlake.”
Hauser leaned on the table. “We need to know
everything you know, and we need to know now. General Westlake is missing, and
we believe he’s fled the country.”
I finished my coffee and sat back in the
chair.
“If I figure out this puzzle for you,” I
said, “you guys are letting me be the one who takes
Hauser looked at his partner, who nodded.
“You’re with us a hundred percent.”
I leaned forward. My back objected, but I
didn’t care. I knew I was close to getting
“The day I was sent to Rura
Penthe, I was on assignment in
“In order to get Perez to meet with me, I
had to guarantee safe passage to
Hauser nodded, as did his partner, who’s
nametag read “Rawlins.”
Hauser said, “Victor Perez is a gun runner
out of
Rawlins smiled, “I’ll notify the pilot we
are headed to
Hauser turned to me and leaned forward.
“You sure you’re up for this?” he said.
“Agent Hauser, my life has been shattered
into pieces and thrown down a bottomless pit by these men. If I don’t do this,
I’m not anyone but a coward.”
Ten
It’s a hot night in
The team consists of me, Sergeant Tasha Wyle, and our sniper, Bill Fox. Tasha
and I are itching to go in, so we signal Bill to take out the guards on the
roof and in the yard. He does with excellent precision.
Tasha and I take opposite sides of the estate and
go around to the front, where we quietly take out the guards. I then unsheathed
my samurai sword before we went in.
“You’re going to fight with that?” asked Tasha.
“The combat gets a little close indoors. I
like to keep it interesting,” I said.
We bust open the door and are met with silence.
Then, a woman screaming and a man at the top
of the stair case with a .45 firing at us. Tasha fires back and distracts the
man, who I recognize as Victor, while I sneak up from behind and chop off his
arm, thus ceasing the fire. Victor screams in pain and the whole house is
pandemonium.
“Silence!” I yell.
“Where is Manuel Jorguez?”
I ask him.
“Nuestro padre que está en cielo,
santificado sea su nombre,” he squealed.
“I am your God right now,” I said. “Now
speak English and tell me where the hell I can find Jorguez
and
“
“Where can I find them?” I asked.
Victor’s breathing was rapid and he was
growing faint and losing a lot of blood. “el diablo le encuentra…” he said,
and he was gone.
I stood up. Victor’s blood was all over me. Tasha came toward me.
“Did we get a location?” she asked.
“
“We’ll have to put up some surveillance
there.”
“We haven’t already?” I asked.
Eleven
You can’t slip on a banana peel in a bomb
shelter without the
The mission was simple: find some idiot to
jump from a plane onto the roof of the palace, sneak his way in, and snipe the
two when they least expected it. All we needed was a volunteer.
So I was told that the built-in glider in my
arms would help me to land safely. That was a comfort. They geared me up like a
mixture between Batman and GI Joe, which actually sounds like a cool action
figure.
I had grenades, two pistols, a shotgun, some
spare clips, and my sword. I was set.
I looked down on the palace and felt
butterflies in my stomach. This was a mission everyone knew would fail, which
is why they sent me… because every time that happens, I pull through.
I jumped, then I
glided, which was a great sensation. I tried not to have too much fun, and
focused on my target: the roof of the palace. I landed safely on the dome and
slid down, catching myself at the end. I squeezed through a window into a bell
tower and caught the attention of the guard standing there.
No big deal, I though, and I slammed him
into the bell and sent him falling a few stories.
Stupid idea. The bell woke up half the continent.
I scrambled down the stairs and just as I
got to the bottom, another guard came at me. I elbowed him in the face, kneed
him in the groin, then threw him aside and took care of he guy behind him.
I made my way through the hallway, but
guards kept showing up. Finally I came to a sanctuary which was a really very
beautiful place, except standing at the pulpit was General Westlake and Manuel Jorguez.
Quickly, I got out the shot gun and slammed
a round into Manuel’s head, brain matter flying everywhere. But the guards came
around me and seized my weapons and brought me down to my knees, so I was
“bowing” to
“Manuel wasn’t really much use anymore,”
said
“Yeah,” I said, “I’ve been there too.”
“Johnny, don’t be so sour,” said
“You are such a coward
“I’m intrigued, Johnny, how is that?”
“You won’t try and kill me yourself. You
send me to Rura Penthe so
they’d kill me there. You’ll have these guards take care of me in a few
minutes. But where’s your honor? Where’s your fighter’s spirit? Or do you even
have any? I was framed, sent to an ice fortress, fought two polar bears and a
monster from Siberia, survived subzero temperatures, then come home to find
I’ve been replaced by some guy who’s now had a child with my wife? I can’t even
go back to
I looked at
“How is your
martial-arts?” asked
“Good, but not my best,” I said.
“I have a garden. You will be cleaned up and
will meet me there, no weapons. No low blows. And this is to the death. I will
meet you in an hour.”
An hour passed and I got dressed in a nice
red kimono, then I meditated until a guard came to get me. I stepped out into a
large clearing of grass surrounded by flowers and vines and trees. Standing in
a black kimono was
“I told my men,” said
“How can I trust that?” I said.
“You don’t have to. Just know that I said
it.”
We both took a stance on the opposite sides
of the garden. Neither of us took any fancy kung-fu stance. Just
the American karate stance. We wanted this done quickly. We weren’t here
to do a dance.
He went for a kick, I blocked. He waited a
minute. Another kick, easily blocked. What was
I went for a spinning roundhouse kick to the
face, it was caught, and
He then got down in my face, giving me a
headlock and punching me in the ribs with his spare hand, the whole time I was
trying to breathe.
“You wanted to play the big boys’ game?” he
asked me. Then he grabbed me by the collar and threw me into a stone birdbath,
which broke upon impact and caused my forehead to bleed.
I rolled away from his laughter and tried to
catch my breath. Blood was now streaming down my forehead. I struggled to my
feet, but then
But I had to keep moving. This was what I
wanted. I wanted
“
“You’re really taking this thing as far as
it’ll go, ain’t you?” said
“To the death,” I said.
Then he went for a punch, but I caught it,
grabbed the arm, and twisted, dislocating his left shoulder. He fell back and
held his shoulder in pain. I got to my feet and circled him. They say revenge
is a dish best served cold. It’s very hot in this garden.
I picked him up and grasped his head in my
hands and arms and twisted until I felt a large snap in the vertebrae. I threw
down Arnold Westlake, and I grabbed my sword, and I left the palace.
Epilogue
Of course they gave me the Medal of Honor.
And I got to shake the president’s hand. The ceremony lasted long enough. I had
nothing to say about my experience.
Once the ordeal was over, I went to my limo,
where my driver awaited. He opened the door for me and inside was Roshi,
wearing a beautiful dress I had bought her and a nice diamond ring.
“So we’re going back to the tribe?” she
asked.
“You bet,” I said. “I’m tired of all this.”
“Do you want the wedding to be of the Hannauit way?” she asked. I smiled and took her hand.
“What other way would I want it?” I said.
“To the airport,” I said to the driver. I
was headed where no one could get me. Where I could be free.
And start a new life and a new future. It was time to seize the day.
About the Author
Captain Fun is really known as Nick Varnau,
movie critic and humorist in