Fatal (C I N's Puritan Series Book 1) Read online

  The Puritan Series

  Story One

  Fatal

  A short story by

  Christina Leigh Pritchard

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  © Copyright 2012 Christina Leigh Pritchard. All Rights Reserved Worldwide.

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  Photography credits: This photo won the first ever photo contest for the C I N Series! Congratulations to Sarah Al Baity! See photo credits on last page.

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  Under Copyright Law: No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise (except for brief quotation in printed or digital review) without prior written permission of the copyright owner.

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  This novel is a work of fiction. Any references to real people, places and/or events are merely added to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used factitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real.

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  Note to Reader:

  Prior to reading this short story, please be sure you’ve read book one in the C I N Series, entitled C I N: “Lynn, Lynn, City of Sin. You Never Come Out The Way You Went In.”

  This story will not make sense without the debut novel. It is also necessary that you read Book Two of the C I N Series, TRAITOR since the characters in the Puritan Series come from this book.

  TODAY

  Lisa rubbed her eyes. Was what she saw even possible? Francisco crumbled before her at the edge of the lake across from C I N. His arms and legs turned to stone. Everyone watched with fear in their eyes. That could’ve been any one of them.

  Lisa placed Rat in the grass and took slow steps towards Francisco, her arm outstretched, trembling. Should she save him? Could she? Just inches away, Michael stopped her.

  He wrapped his arms around her waist, blocking her from touching the traitor. “Francisco doesn’t deserve to be saved,” he said. “He’s stolen longevity from his family—just to feed himself.”

  “You don’t get to judge me!” Francisco shouted. His knees broke, sending him down to the ground. He rolled onto his side, his arms stone and his torso turning brittle.

  Lisa cringed. Francisco looked half alive and half statuesque. How could she just stand by and watch something like this? “Let me go, Michael. I’ve got to help him.”

  “He’s a monster—murdering others just so he can live.”

  “He wasn’t always this way,” a voice said. Lisa and Michael turned sideways. A cloaked man stood before them, lowering his hood. His skin was yellow and his eyes crescent shaped.

  “Who are you?” Lisa asked.

  “I’m Francisco’s brother.”

  “What can you tell me about your brother?”

  The oriental man closed his eyes, avoiding his ever transforming brother. “I haven’t a single good story to tell—only his beginning.”

  “Well,” Lisa sighed. “Get started on your story—and fast.”

  “Why can’t I tell my own story?” Francisco said. “I’m the one who knows it best.”

  Michael frowned. “What if there isn’t time for you to finish it?”

  “I’ll talk fast.”

  1013 C.E.

  (Common Era)

  Most people think the first persons to discover America were from one of the European countries… In reality, the Orientals were the first to make boats and travel around the world, trading their goods with others.

  My name’s Francisco, and I was born in Spain, so you’re probably wondering how I know about the traders and their travels. I was sold to the Oriental traders by my parents and unfortunately, this is my story.

  -1-

  When I was eight, my mother took me into the market, her fingers trembling, and placed me on a wooden stand.

  She knelt before me, taking my hands. “I’m sorry, Francisco,” she cried, burying her face in my shirt. “We don’t have any money to feed you.”

  “I don’t eat a lot,” I said.

  She stood, wiping her eyes.

  “Mom?”

  “Stay here, Francisco, and be a good boy.” My mother pulled free of my grasp, taking the steps two at a time, away from me.

  People shouted in a foreign tongue, waving their fists in my direction. My heart pounded in my chest and I couldn’t breathe. Why did my mother tell me to stay here on this platform?

  “Mom!” I screamed.

  She disappeared amongst the crowd, never looking back.

  What did this mean?

  “Mom, where are you going? Come back for me!” I tried to run but couldn’t. My feet were cuffed and attached to a large chain.

  Sure, we didn’t have a lot to eat and I slept outside most nights but I didn’t mind.

  “Mom, I’ll eat less food! Come back for me!”

  A short, thin man with strange, crescent shaped eyes, walked towards me. He wore a triangular hat and grass shoes. The man leaned forward, observing every scar on my young body. He lifted my arms, tapped my knees, and stared at my teeth.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, resisting.

  He spoke in a tongue I didn’t understand, unhooking me. I tried to run, but he held my arm tight, dragging me towards a floating object.

  “Help! Someone help me! This man won’t let me go!” I screamed, struggling with all my might.

  “Look at the ships, so many.” A man exclaimed, pointing. I screamed, gaining his attention. He had a daughter who clung to his arm.

  “Help me!” I begged, extending myself towards him. He had a daughter; he had to have some compassion. “Please sir, help me get away from this man!”

  “So sad to see, so very sad indeed,” he said.

  “What’s sad?” I cried louder, resisting even more. “What’s happening to me?”

  His daughter tugged on his shirt, “Can’t you help him daddy?”

  The man shook his head and frowned. “He belongs to them now.”

  -2-

  I was placed inside the floating object. Another Spaniard called it a boat. The galley was dark and a horrible stench permeated the air. It was putrid.

  “Somebody help me!”

  “It’s no use,” another said. “We’re theirs now. Our families have sold us to them.”

  I was sold? Like a piece of furniture?

  “I want to go home, mom, I’ll eat less food!” I sobbed, curling up on the floor. Two boys my age patted my back, speaking in a foreign tongue. There were chains on their ankles too. “I don’t know what you’re saying.” I tried to speak but my next words were choppy and faint. “I just want my mom.”

  “We’ll protect you,” a voice said. “That’s what the others are saying.”

  “You speak their language?” I sniffled, wiping my nose on my arm. “Who are they? Where are you?”

  “I’m a trouble maker,” the voice answered. “They keep me penned up like livestock.”

  “Why did my mom sell me? I don’t understand.”

  “Maybe she couldn’t keep you alive anymore. Maybe she is sick.”

  “No, this is not fair! I want to go home!”

  “Quiet, the guards are coming, they’ll beat you.”

  The two boys said something else foreign then sat against my back.

  “What did they say?”

  “Shh!”

  Two men, with their black hair tied upon their heads, held torches of firelight. They were muscular and slim. Their eyes surveyed the galley. I could see the others now. The voice sat tied inside
a round pen with several farm animals. Was that the horrible stench? Body odor and animal dung?

  The men stomped through the rows of chained children, standing in front of the two boys guarding me. They spoke, their foreign tongue like a death sentence. The boys argued with the men, pleaded.

  The only word I understood—no. No.

  “They’re going to teach you a lesson,” the voice from the pen said. “Cry, maybe they won’t hurt you.”

  The men turned into the direction of the voice. One pointed his torch at the boy. He was oriental—but of a different race. “You’re in luck, they don’t want you anymore.” The boy leaned over the pen, taunting the guards. “It’s time for my next beating from the barbarians!”

  How could he joke about something like that?

  They grabbed him, tying his arms up to a strange contraption that spread his limbs a part like a giant “X”.

  “Don’t say a word and maybe they’ll forget about you.” The voice called over his shoulder. “They hate when I won’t speak to them in their language.”

  A long rope-like object appeared in the men’s hands. There were jagged pieces of bone remnants attached to the ends of each rope.

  The men lifted the ropes above their heads, jerking forward, whipping the boy. He screamed; his body stiffening.

  Where had my mother sent me? What sort of person would sell their child? Why to these men?

  I couldn’t watch anymore. There were deep cuts forming on the boy’s back. Blood covered the floor beneath him and the men cut the ropes. He fell to his knees, groaning. “Don’t speak, new guy. They’re still looking for a reason to hurt you.”

  My heart thudded in my chest. I was only eight years old. It took everything I had not to scream or cry. The men placed their faces inches from mine. I lay on my side in the hay, covering my eyes from theirs.

  The men laughed, satisfied.

  When they left, I bit my arm, sobbing. Where was I? How could my mother give me to these people? I felt lost and hope vanished from my eyes for the very first time.

  “What’s your name?” I asked.

  The boy groaned. I glanced over at him. He could barely stand up. “It’s Hao.”

  “I’m Francisco.” He stretched his arm forward and I did the same, our fingertips touching. “You’ll be my new family, okay?”

  Hao nodded. “I haven’t had a family in many years. Promise to never abandon me like my parents.”

  “I won’t,” I promised. “We’ll be brothers by choice.”

  “I’ll teach you how to survive on the ship and when we break on land, we’ll plan our escape.”

  “Hao,” I said. “Are you in a lot of pain?”

  He coughed. “Nothing I’m not used to. Your skin would never be able to take this.”

  “I’ve never been beaten. My family was pretty good to me.”

  “Maybe they couldn’t afford to feed you. A lot of families think that we’ll be sold to rich families and have better lives.”

  “Hao, how old are you?”

  “I’m ten.”

  -3-

  Several months passed and Hao and I did many chores. We cleaned the upper decks, peeled potatoes and cooked this special grain called rice. Fish came easy with a simple rod and I learned all about where we were sailing.

  Barbarians loved to trade with the Chinese. They were darkened by the sun with black hair and wrinkled skin around the eyes. Some tribes were good homes to belong to but others—Hao told me of the Scalpers and that if I was sold to them that I’d be as good as dead within a day. He feared that the traders would give him as a gift to the Scalpers—for causing trouble. Would they really do this knowing what would happen to Hao?

  The traders weren’t so bad—besides a few who bullied us. They fed us and taught us with patience, how to control the ship while sailing. The oldest trader was called Shen and he seemed to really like me. He saved the fish heads for me and allowed me to sleep on deck which I was very grateful for. The two boys, who helped me that first night, didn’t fare as well as me or Hao. Sickness took them and we had to plunge their bodies into the sea. A lot of the traders died too, leaving us with plenty of food and space down below. The two warriors who beat Hao grew sick once. Hao and I nursed them back with some strange type of soup that the Orientals made back in their homeland. Our good deed went unnoticed. They still bullied us.

  All I wanted was for us to find land, the Barbarians, and then escape forever.

  Hao and I were going to move to the mountains and live off the foreigners’ land. There were many who travelled to this place, were able to build homes and live. Hao remembered from his last trip out this way.

  -4-

  I could see the land up ahead through the telescope the old trader gave me. I shouted, using the traders’ language for land. “0”

  “0”

  Trees lined the shore and for the first time, I saw true Barbarians in their animal hide garb. It was a fantastic sight! “Hao, we’re here!”

  “Yes, my brother, we’ve made it to the promised land!” Hao cheered, leaning over the rail. “We’ve made it!”

  “Shen!” I shouted. “0”

  The old man smiled, guiding me into the barracks. He pressed his finger to his lips. I obeyed following him down below. There was a piece of drift wood readied with supplies.

  “Is this for me?”

  Shen nodded.

  The old man was going to let me go! I had to get Hao.

  “Hao,” I whispered.

  Shen’s head lowered.

  A horrible thought overcame me. Hao was right. The traders were going to give him to the Scalpers. “No, no, no!” I cried.

  Shen wrapped his arms around me, almost as if he were trying to console me. “Hao’s my brother; we’re supposed to run away together.”

  The warriors pounded on the door, demanding we open it. Shen tried to force me on the driftwood. He struggled against me.

  “I can’t abandon my brother,” I told him.

  His eyes lowered, hiding the raft. Shen unlocked the door, allowing the warriors to drag me back to the surface. They attached shackles to my ankles, motioning for me to follow the other prisoners to the smaller boats. Hao sat behind me with a hood over his head. “What’s going on, Francisco, I can’t see anything.”

  “They’re taking us to the land.”

  “What do the natives look like? Do they have braids tied up high on their heads?”

  I couldn’t tell. They were still too far away. “Why, what do braids on the head mean?”

  “Those are the Scalpers.”

  “What about braids that rest on their shoulders?”

  “Those are okay.” Hao said. “That’s the tribe we want to be sold to.”

  “I’m scared.”

  “You’re always scared.”

  “But, this is different, Hao. We’re really here.”

  My brother struggled in his covering. “I wish I could see them. Why do they have me covered up like this?”

  “No one else is covered, just you.”

  We hit land. The warriors forced us out in ankle deep waters. I was unhooked and forced forward. I trembled, kneeling in the sand. How long had I been on the boat? It felt amazing to touch the earth once more.

  The warriors kicked me, sending me face first into the sand.

  “What’s happening Hao?” I cried, trying to look around me. A warrior’s foot shoved me back down. “What’s happening brother?”

  “I don’t know!” Hao screamed. He sounded far away. “Are you on the ship, Francisco?”

  “No!”

  “Where are you, my brother? They’re separating us! The boat is moving!”

  “Hao!”

  “Francisco!”

  The soldier kicked me in the head.

  -5-

  I awoke covered in animal hides. My heart pounded. Where was I? The walls were flimsy and a dead rabbit hung above me. Fire burned outside and I struggled to lift my head. It throbbed and my visio
n blurred. Where was I?

  “Relax, child, you’re safe with me.”

  I turned into the direction of the voice. A tall, thin man with piercing hazel eyes sat holding a chicken in his arms.

  “They’re interesting creatures, yes?” The man stroked his bird. “We’ve never seen an animal like this. Your traders find very interesting things.”

  “How do you know my language?” I recoiled, covering my limbs with the blankets. “What are you going to do with me?”

  “You were a gift,” the man answered. “Someone wanted you kept safe. We don’t usually take prisoners.”

  “My brother, Hao, did you take him? Is he here?”

  “I never heard of a Spaniard with the name Hao.”

  “He’s Oriental.”

  “And he’s your brother?”

  “We take care of each other. I must find him. We’re going to run away and live off the land just as the Barbarians do.”

  “Am I a Barbarian?” The man asked. He let his chicken roam freely.

  “I don’t know.”

  “What’s your name, boy?”

  “Francisco.”

  “We may have to change that to something else.”

  “Why?”

  “My last son was Francisco, too.”

  “Your last son?” I shivered in my coverings. “What happened to him?”

  “He betrayed me, that’s what.”

  I peeked out of the animal hides and took a good look at the man. He wore long braids down his back and his feet were covered in something strange. His arm bent forward aiming a sharp object my way.

  “What are you doing?” I screamed. The knife pierced the dirt beside me. A snake wiggled, struggling under the man’s blade. “Wh-Who are y-you?”