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Reader #
The
Lifesaver
~Book One~
Kara Siert, age seven
Started
July 22, 2003
~Chapter One~
The Soldiers and the Worries
I hugged my friend, Margaret Latchet, as tightly as I could. Her family had always taken care of me. Now they were moving to America – away from me. They didn’t have enough money to bring me too. They were leaving me. I didn’t want to stay in Iraq where Sadam Hussein might be dwelling.
In a few days, American soldiers were supposed to come. I was worried. The only friends I ever had in my life were leaving me. My parents had died. I had no one to protect me. I didn’t know what the soldiers would do. Would they kick me out of my small shelter? Would the say I could never come back? Would they make me a homeless girl? Would they do all this to a nine-year-old?
My worries were interrupted by a tight hug. “Margaret!” I exclaimed, “Don’t leave!”
Margaret had tears in her eyes. “I’ve got to go,” she told me, as she quickly thrust her doll, Mary Ann, into my arms. My eyes grew wide and then I said, “You can’t give me Mary Ann!”
“Take her and never forget me.” Margaret said.
“She’s your treasure,” I whispered.
Margaret hugged me for the last time and whispered, “My parents are calling me. I….” The only friend I ever had was choked with tears and couldn’t finish.
Days later, I held Mary Ann as I was sitting on the ground in my hut.
“Oh, Mary Ann,” I whispered as if she were Margaret, “the soldiers are here.”
Mary Ann was worn-out already. Her string hair was matted and her cloth hands were badly stained with berry juice and a there was a little tear in her faded dress – I still liked her. Mary Ann’s mouth, nose and eyes were almost worn off – I still liked her.
I watched the soldiers march through town. I shivered and held Mary Ann’s hand tighter than before.
Some of the soldiers looked kind and others looked as if they’d kill everybody. I was pretty scared.
Weeks later, I stood, staring at all the American tents set up in the valley below me. I didn’t know what to think. It was so irritating some hours, and others, well, I guess I felt safe.
Every morning I got up early to see the tents. I had never seen so many men, or tents, in my life!
I snuck a little closer everyday. I couldn’t believe how close I got! I soon began to worry. What if a man woke up and yelled at me? The same questions that I had asked myself the day Margaret left buzzed through my mind everyday I got closer.
1
~Chapter Two~
Reputations
I glanced around the camp, as if there were anything more for me to see, besides the tents.
I noticed that by this time, the men usually were starting to wake up. I started back towards my hut. I had never stayed this long before. But I stopped just three feet away from my hut. There were some nice men I had seen when the soldiers had marched into town, a few months ago.
I decided that I had never met a mean man, yet. What was wrong with getting to know a few of the men? At least one of them could be my friend.
I bounded back towards the camp.
“Hello, I’m Sergeant Campbell, what’s your name?” came a friendly voice from a tent. I stopped and looked behind my shoulder to see a light-skinned brown-haired man.
“I am Mary Westinghouse, Sergeant Campbell,” I replied, smiling.
Sergeant Campbell smiled a sly smile back. I didn’t like his sly-looking smile or the way he shuffled his feet while talking.
“Sergeant Campbell,” I said a little hesitant to speak to him, “who is that person?” I nodded my head towards the man half out of his tent. I was growing rather curious about the black-haired man.
“Oh, he’s Sergeant Williams, the annoying one!” Joel bust out laughing at his ‘joke’. I didn’t think it was a nice ‘joke’ at all.
Why did he act so strange?
I noticed ten other men waking up. My knees began to shake. I started to run out of the camp, but was grabbed by one of the soldiers. “Why, hello there, little one, what is your name?” the man asked. The man was Sergeant Williams!
Surprised, I managed to reply, “I am Mary Westinghouse.”
“Hello, Miss Mary, I’m Sergeant Williams.” I liked it that he called me ‘Miss Mary’, it had a nice ring to it.
“Mary! You’re with Sergeant Williams, aren’t you? I told you to stay away!” Sergeant Campbell was now right beside me. He must have been listening in to our conversation!
“Sergeant Campbell,” I said, sounding annoyed.
“Mary,” Joel imitating in a girl’s voice.
“Sergeant Campbell, don’t bother my Mary,” Sergeant Williams said defiantly.
Sergeant Campbell’s laughed sounded a little evil. “Okay, you two can play together!” He laughed harder than ever with an evil tone.
Sergeant Williams invited me into his tent. Three other men were sitting in it.
“Hi, Mary,” one of them greeted me. I figured he knew my name because he had heard our conversation.
Sergeant Williams and his friends talked to me a while and then Sergeant Williams suggested that we go outside of his tent and get some fresh air.
His friends said that they enjoyed getting to know me and hoped they would see me again.
Sergeant Williams told me that his friends were going to try to take a short nap inside their tent.
“I think it is about time for me to go home,” I said.
2
REPUTATIONS
“All right, Mary,” Sergeant Williams said, “but you must promise to see me tomorrow.”
“I promise,” I said.
I was almost out of the camp when I found myself face-to-face with a large man. He introduced himself as General Quint.
I told him I was Mary Westinghouse. “General Quint,” I began, “if you have time, can you tell me the history of Sergeant Williams and Sergant Campbell?”
“I certainly have time, Mary,” General Quint replied, “I know a lot about every single one of my soldiers. I have their reputations.”
General Quint pulled out a faded book. It was a little bigger than a pocket book, but it was so fat, I figured it could hold all the soldiers’ reputations if two were on a page.
General Quint read:
Sergeant Williams
Sergeant Williams
has a perfect reputation, in fact, he
saved five-year-old Kevin
Parker from drowning.
Greg is in his forties,
but is not married.
I recon he’s got an
“A+” reputation.
Mr. Quint explained that he sort of “graded” the soldiers. Mr. Quint opened the book to the first page. He read:
Sergeant Campbell
Sergeant Campbell
has a “D” reputation. I would say
he’s got to have a wife to do the Dusting!
Ha, ha, just a joke!
Sergeant Campbell is 22.
His reputation is in the “middle”, though he keeps
his secrets.
“General Quint,” I asked, “why did you say that Joel keeps his secrets?”
“Well,” replied General General, “I just felt like writing it. You will understand why someday.”
I was puzzled and was about to ask another question when two men caught my eye.
“Could you tell me the reputation of those men?” I asked, nodding my head toward an older man with a rosy-cheeked man following him.
“Sergeant Tasman?” General Quint asked.
“I guess. Can you tell me his reputation?”
“You sure are curious,” General Quint said, smiling.
He opened his book to the third page and read:
Sergeant Tasman
I’d say Sergeant Tasman
has an “A+” reputation.
Sergeant Tasman is an older man, about 41.
He has a love for children unlike anyone else.
He used to have a two-year-old daughter who was
killed by a drunk driver.
No one knows who the drunk driver is.
I smiled. I wanted to get to know Sergeant Tasman. He sounded like a pretty good guy.
General Quint smiled. He said to me, “The man who follows Sergeant Tasman is Sergeant Pat. General Quint read:
Sergeant Pat
Sergeant pat has a “B” reputation.
He’s not perfect, but not bad, either.
Sergeant Pat follows Sergeant Williams everywhere.
Some people call Sergeant Pat a “follower”.
I think Sergeant Williams and Sergeant Pat are perfect for each other.
I smiled, “General Quint, may I talk to Marcie and Homer?”
“Sure,” General Quint replied, “as long as you don’t say anything about Joel to them.
“But General Quint–” I began.
The General held up his hand for silence.
I stepped back. I ran back into the woods where I had so happily skipped earlier that morning.
~Chapter Three~
The Answer
I leaned against an old Oak tree.
Why did General. Quint tell me not to say anything about Sergeant Campbell to Sergeant Williams and Sergeant Pat? I asked myself. Although it had been already a day since the incident, I was curious.
Maybe I had been a little silly running away from the camp, but it had been time for me to go, anyhow.
Suddenly, I heard General Quint’s voice.
“Mary!” he called once, no twice.
At first I didn’t want to talk to him, but I figured I had to. “I’m over here!” I shouted.
The next thing I knew, General Quint was standing in front of me.
“Hello,” I said pleasantly.
“Hello, Mary,” he greeted me, “You forgot your doll.” He handed me Mary Ann.
“General Quint!” I exclaimed, “thanks! I forgot all about Mary Ann.”
“You’re welcome, Mary.”
“General Quint?” I asked.
“Yes, Mary?”
“Why can’t I talk to Sergeant Pat and Sergeant Tasman about Sergeant Campbell?” I asked.
“Well, Mary, that’s a long story,” General Quint explained, “I didn’t want to tell you at camp, because I didn’t want Sergeant Williams and Sergeant Pat to find out that I know their secret.”
“What secret?” I asked.
“Well,” General Quint said, “once Sergeant Campbell was drunk.”
Although I did not like Sergeant Campbell, I still was surprised.
General Quint replied, “He was drunk and he caused an accident. Remember when I read you Sergeant William’s reputation? His daughter was killed and Joel killed her!” General Quint paused.
“Well,” General Quint continued, “I don’t know how Sergeant Tasman found out, but anyway, I didn’t want you to say anything about Sergeant Campbell to them, because you might accidentally say something that sounded like you liked him. They might think you two are friends, and not want to be friends with you.”
I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. The whole story seemed like a story in a storybook to me – not true.
~Chapter Four~
Seven Stones Cave
“Mary?” General Quint said, “I have bad news for you.”
“Bad news!” I exclaimed, “Is it about Sergeant Campbell?” Two days had passed since I had found out ‘the secret’.
General Quint shook his head. “No. It is not about Sergeant Campbell. It is about Sergeant Tasman and Sergeant Pat.”
“Oh, what is it about them?” I asked.
“Well, Sergeant Tasman, Sergeant Pat and some of the other soldiers went on a short walk. Then, as I was told, Sergeant Tasman saw a strange plant, and decided to taste it. He got awful sick and this sickness is contagious. Since Sergeant Tasman and Sergeant Pat are together so much, Sergeant Pat got it. I keep thinking that it will spread to more people, but no one else has got it, yet.”
“Do you have a nurse?” I asked.
“Yes,” General Quint replied, “her name is Anna. She has not gotten sick yet, but everyone thinks she will get it. Well, I’d better be getting back to camp. You can come, too, Mary.”
“All right, I will,” I agreed happily.
“Well,” General Quint said, “how would you like to meet some soldiers?”
“Okay!” I exclaimed.
l
When we reached the camp, Mr. Quint almost bumped into a tall, skinny, man.
“Oh, hello, Sergeant Pence,” Mr. Quint greeted him.
“Hello,” Sergeant Pence said, “Who’s this?”
“This is my friend, Mary,” Mr. Quint replied.
“Oh, hi, Mary,” Sergeant Pence said, “How are you today?”
“I’m great,” I replied.
Someone called Sergeant Pence and he said he would have to go.
“Here’s Sergeant Pence’s reputation,” Mr. Quint said. He read:
Sergeant Pence
Phil has an “A” reputation.
He has a kind heart and
a family of his own in the U.S.
SEVEN STONES CAVE
“Thanks, General Quint.”
General Quint shoved his pocketbook back into his pocket and looked up to see a rather chubby man. He walked over to us. General Quint told me that he was Sergeant Lays.
“Who’s that?” Sergeant Lays asked, jerking his thumb over at me.
Sergeant Lays had a strange way of talking that made me feel uneasy.
“This is Mary,” Mr. Quint replied.
“Oh. I must be going.” Tim climbed back into his tent.
“Sergeant Lays is shy of girls. Here’s Sergeant Lays’ reputation,” Mr. Quint said, and read:
Sergeant Lays
Tim has a “B” reputation.
He doesn’t like to talk to girls.
He likes to write books.
“General Quint,” I said, “Why does Sergeant Lays have a ‘B’ reputation?”
“Well, Mary,” General Quint was talking in a low whisper, “I can’t tell you here at the camp, because someone might hear us. I found a cave yesterday and decided to call it ‘Seven Stones Cave.’ And I can tell you privately there. Will you come?”
“All right,” I replied, “Let’s go.”
~Chapter Five~
The Singing Voice
“Here is the cave,” General Quint said after a long time of walking, walking, walking.
“It sure takes a long time to get here,” I commented, “But I think it is worth it, because I love exploring.”
“Come on,” General Quint said, holding my hand. “See those stones?” he asked, pointing to seven round stones.
“Yes,” I replied, “why are they there?”
“I do not know,” General Quint replied, “they were there when I discovered the cave. That’s why I decided to call the cave ‘Seven Stones Cave’.
“Oh,” I said, “Can we go inside, now?”
“All right.”
General Quint handed me a camouflaged flashlight.
We walked into the cave. The flashlight cast a stream of bright light in our paths and the cave did not look dark at all.
l
It seemed like were had been walking for hours. I was tired.
“General Quint,” I said, “can we take a break?”
“Yes,” came the reply.
“You said you’d tell me about the soldiers’ secrets,” I said, biting into a luscious apple General Quint had given me.
“All right, I will,” General Quint said, “Sergeant Lays has a ‘B’ reputation because he’s kind of lazy. I don’t know why he is in the army.”
“Oh. Is that all you had to tell me. It wasn’t worth coming here,” I said flatly.
“Well,” General Quint said, “another reason I brought you here was so you could see the cave, you know, explore a little bit. I didn’t explore very much when I discovered the cave.”
“Well,” I said, smiling, “let’s explore!”
l
We walked for a long time. We didn’t talk much, but I was to busy observing little bugs.
As General Quint and I stopped for another rest break, I heard a voice. At first, I thought I had imagined it, but it continued and I could tell General Quint heard it, too.
“What is that, General Quint?”
~Chapter Six~
Patrick Hermiston
General Quint and I hurried towards the voice. As we ran, the voice grew louder. Although we were running and franticly trying to find out who the person was and why they were singing, we listened to the words. They said:
Lord, I lift your name on high!
Lord, I love to sing your praises!
I’m so glad you’re in my heart!
I’m so glad you came to save us!
You came from Heaven to earth
to show the way, from the cross
to the grave, from the grave to the
sky, Lord I lift your name on high!
I wondered what the words meant.
The singing ceased. And we stopped. General Quint immediately saw a small stool. He went over to examine it and I followed.
Suddenly, we heard footsteps behind us. We whirled around to see a man. He had light brown hair, light skin and brown eyes. He smiled.
My knees shook wildly and General Quint had a blank look on his face.
“Don’t be frightened,” he said, “I am Patrick Hermiston.”
Slowly, my fear left me and I relaxed. General Quint smiled.
“I am General Quint and this is my friend, Mary,” General Quint said, grinning. I smiled, too.
“Hello, Mary, General Quint,” Patrick said.
“Hi, Patrick,” I said.
“Hello,” General Quint said.
“Say,” I asked, “what was that song you were singing?”
“That song,” Patrick replied, “is one of my favorite songs, called Lord I Lift Your Name On high.”
I hesitated before asking my question, “Who is the Lord?”
“Well,” Patrick replied, “to answer your question, I’d have to tell you a story.”
“Oh, I love stories!” I exclaimed.
“I’d love to hear,” General Quint said, “if you have the time.”
“I do,” Patrick said, “I have time to tell you.”
First, Patrick told us about the Romans. “They were in charge of the Jews. I’ll tell you about the Jews later. Well, the Romans wanted to know how many people there were, so they told all the men to bring their families to the town they were born in.”
I was pretty sure I’d like this story. I liked almost any story that was interesting.
“And,” Patrick continued, “among them were a married couple, named Mary and Joseph. Now, Mary was pregnant with the Messiah, God’s son. You see, everyone has sinned–”
PATRICK HERMISTION
“What’s sin?” I interrupted.
“Sin is anything you think, say or do, that does not please God.”
“What does not please God?” I asked.
“Well,” Patrick replied, “have you ever lied, or stolen something?”
“Yes,” I replied quietly.
“That’s something that displeases God. The Bible says–”
“What’s the Bible?” I asked.
“The Bible,” Patrick replied, “is God’s holy word. Well, everyone has sinned, and,” Patrick paused.
“Go on,” General Quint said.
“How would you like to live with a king, Mary, General Quint?”
“I’d love it,” I replied, “It’d be wonderful!”
“I’d enjoy it, that’s for sure,” General Quint said, “but I couldn’t abandon my troops.”
“Well,” Patrick continued, “would you like to live in a dark place with NO light and a fire that will never go out? And with a devil?”
“No, I would not,” General Quint replied.
“No way!” I exclaimed.
“Well,” Patrick said, “there is such a place where a king lives and there is lots of light, and you can live there, too! But, you can live with the devil, and there is darkness. Where would YOU like to live?”
“With the king,” I replied.
General Quint agreed.
Then Patrick continued. “But, since everyone has sinned, only a perfect person can pay for it.”
I nodded. “But why do we all sin?”
“Well,” Patrick said, “That is another story. I will tell it later.” Then he winked at me, and continued, “God is the only one who is perfect. His Son, Jesus, is perfect also. The Holy Spirit and Jesus and God are all the same but I had better not confuse you with that now. Anyway, God sent Jesus down here to Earth and He grew up, and, Mary, he was your age at a point. The Bible tells more about it, but I will go on to when He was an adult. There were some people who did not like Him. They gave Him a trial and told bad lies about him. First they whipped Him, then they nailed him to a cross, two pieces of wood, one shorter than the other, nailed together in the shape of a lower-case ‘t’, and he died there.”
“Oh no!” I exclaimed. “He’s dead?”
I leaned in so far to Patrick that my nose almost touched his.
“He can’t be dead,” I moaned. “How can I live with God if He’s dead? I shall–”
“Slow down, Mary,” Patrick told me with a smile. “There’s a happy ending, don’t worry.”
I sighed a sigh of relief.
“I can’t stand stories with bad endings,” I said quickly.
Patrick nodded at me, then continued. “They buried Jesus in a tomb. But after three days, he rose again! He stayed on the Earth for a little bit more time, then he rose back up into the sky. His Father is the King. You can live with him when you die, or, if He comes back soon, you’ll go to Him without dying, but anyway, all you have to do is say a little prayer, it doesn’t have to be fancy, and tell him you’re sorry for sinning and He’ll forgive you. He’ll forgive you
and will forget them as if they never happened.”
“Oh!” I exclaimed. “I want to do it.”
“Me too,” said the General.
“Here, you can say something like this,” said Patrick. Then he said the following:
Dear God,
I am sorry for doing bad things (sinning) and I would like you to please come into my heart. Please forgive me for sinning, and make me Your child.
Amen.
The General and I silently prayed along with Patrick.
“You won’t always be good,” said Patrick. “But, God can help you be good.”
“I had better get back to my troops,” said the General, standing up.
I stood up and Patrick did, too.
We both shook hands with Patrick, and then Patrick invited me to stay with him for a little while.
I said I would, and the General wasn’t jealous.
Patrick led the General out, and said, “Come again, General Quint!”
And the General nodded, smiled, and hurried away.
************************************************
I looked up at Patrick.
“What?” I screeched. “What did you say?”
I had been with Patrick for a week, now, and we were sitting on the hard stone floor and talking with each other, Patrick with a grave face, me with a terrified, horrified, scared face.
“You say the General was killed? KILLED?”
I jumped up and down and tears streamed down my cheeks.
I put my arms around Patrick’s neck and he hugged me.
I had gotten to know Patrick a lot better, and I liked him very much. But he had just told me the General had been found – dead.
I looked at Patrick, at his loving eyes, at his grave face.
But was it happiness I spotted somewhere in his expressions?
“Mary, dear,” said Patrick. He held me close, and held my little hand in both of his. “The General has only gone to be with the King. He has gone up there.”
Patrick nodded to the ceiling. “The body that the men found is a dead body. It is no longer the General. The General’s soul has gone to be with the King, and he is up there right now, with Jesus. I know we’ll miss him, but he is in a better place, Mary.”
He pushed my brown hair out of my face and looked at my tear-stained cheeks and my red eyes.
“Mary, Mary,” he said. “He’s in a better place.”
“I should like to know who killed him,” I sobbed. “I would like to kill them, or him, or her or whoever it is. I should like to kill whoever killed my friend!”
My voice had been getting louder and I shouted the last word and burst into a passionate fury.
“I hate whoever killed the General! I hate whoever killed my friend! I want the General here! I WANT HIM NOW!”
“Now Mary,” said Patrick.
I had been jumping around, and he now pulled me back to the floor. “Settle down. Settle down, Mary. Do you know what the Bible says? It says to love our enemies.”
“But it makes no sense!” I screeched.
I probably would have almost hurt myself by jumping furiously around if Patrick hadn’t held me back.
“Mary,” he said. “If you want to be good, you don’t fly into rages. Now sit down and stop jumping up like you have ants in your pants.”
I struggled to do what he said, but something inside of me wanted to hurt whoever killed the General.
I managed to control myself, and looked at Patrick.
But then, I found myself saying, “You don’t like the General! You don’t, you don’t! You don’t care one bit for him!”
And then I ran out the door and into the maze of tunnels and sobbed as I went.
Patrick really didn’t care. Neither did the King, because he wouldn’t have let the General die if he really loved us. The King didn’t care one speck about me.
But something else, something small, said, “No Mary. God does love you. He just took the General to His home. God knows better than you do. He knows what is best. You can’t lose Patrick. If you do, you will not have any friends. If you lose Patrick, you won’t be able to learn more about the King.”
I shook my hair out of my face and refused to listen to the small voice. It was too small to be anything, I told myself.
As I sped down the hallway, I kept telling myself, “The King doesn’t care, the King doesn’t care”.
Suddenly, I looked about me and it was a dead end. And Patrick was only a few feet behind me.
But then, I saw a surprisingly familiar face. It was Margaret, Margaret Latchet.
“Margaret?” I squeaked.
“Mary?” she asked, her head of bouncy brown curls bobbing as she took a step towards me.
Her faded brown dress looked exactly like mine, and our expressions were similar.
“Mary Ann!” she cried.
I looked down at the doll in my hand.
“You kept her!” Margaret cried.
“Of course I did,” I replied quickly. “But Margaret, what are you doing here? I thought you were in America, and you were going to come back to me later, after the war, and take me there once you had the money. But Margaret, you’re still here. Why?”
Patrick caught up to me, but he didn’t say a word. He just watched in amazement.
“Mary,” she said, snatching up my two hands, “We never had enough money. We – why, Mary, who’s that?”
She was looking at Patrick.
“I don’t know,” I lied.
Patrick stared at me.
“I’m Patrick Hermiston, and Mary is my friend. We’ve just had a little bit of a misunderstanding, that’s all.”
Margaret nodded.
“But I hate you!” I told him.
“Mary, now,” said Patrick, calmly laying his hand on my shoulder.
I stared at him and held Margaret’s hand tighter.
“I hate you!” I screamed.
Then I ran back down the little hallway, dragging Margaret along with me.
l
“Well, Mary,” came the calm voice I had gotten to know so well. “Mary, please, do listen to me. The General is in a better place.”
Patrick looked at me with his blue eyes and suddenly, I started to understand.
“God just wanted the General to be with Him, now. That’s all, Mary,” said Patrick. “God knows best, Mary, God knows best.”
I nodded. “I’m sorry, Patrick,” I told him.
“I’m sorry, too,” said Patrick.
I didn’t know why he was apologizing, but I didn’t bother to ask. I just threw my arms around him and I knew he loved me and so did the King.
l
Patrick cleared his throat. “Did you know, John Latchet, that God loves you very, very, much?” he asked.
“What?” Margaret’s father (John Latchet) screeched. “God doesn’t love me anymore. I once thought he did (that was foolish). I thought he would protect me, and look what happened! My hut is burned, I’m stuck in this old cave, I don’t have enough money to get out of here, and, and–”
“Slow down, John,” came Patrick’s calm voice.
Patrick was talking to Mr. Latchet, and Mrs. Latchet, Margaret and I watched in horror as Mr. Latchet pulled a gun from his pocket.
He aimed it at Patrick and pulled the trigger.
Patrick, I knew, could have run, but he stood his ground.
“Mr. Latchet,” he began.
The bullet missed Patrick’s head (that was where he meant it to go) and entered his arm.
Patrick gave a sharp cry and fainted. Then Mr. Latchet planned to kill him, when Margaret, Mrs. Latchet, and I all sprang up.
Margaret screamed, “No, Father!”
And I shouted, “Mr. Latchet!”
And Mrs. Latchet cried, “John! What are you doing?”
All three of us grabbed his arm and the gun fell to the floor.
Mr. Latchet fought furiously for his gun, but I snatched it up and handed it to Mrs. Latchet, who was tall and was able to keep it out of her husband’s reach.
It was a terrible scene I witnessed as Mr. Latchet sprang at his wife trying to get at the gun.
Margaret and I grabbed his shirt, but he kicked me in the stomach and Margaret lost her balance when I fell and we all landed on Patrick with a thump.
Margaret stood right back up, but I had to recover.
As my friend snatched at Mr. Latchet’s arm, he stepped on her toe and she kicked his leg.
I wasn’t sure what was happening, but Mr. Latchet fell down on top of Margaret’s hand, and Mrs. Latchet tripped on a rock and tumbled on top of Margaret.
I looked at Patrick, and grabbed the gun, which tumbled over in my direction.
I ran, as fast as I could, through the maze of stone walls and rooms, all the way to where I hoped would lead me out so I could dispose of the terrible gun.
I think the King helped me; I saw a little bit of light and ran towards it.
As I hurried into the daylight, I breathed a sigh of relief, when I spotted a stream nearby.
I tried to figure out a way to empty the gun of its bullets, and I happened to push the right button and I tossed the bullets into the mud and the gun into the stream.
Then, although I would have much rather gone back to Patrick, hid in a large oak tree, thinking it was the best thing I could do.
Had the King taken Patrick also?
And why did Mr. Latchet shoot Patrick just because he tried to tell him about the King?
Why was all this happening?
**********************************************************************
I yawned and rubbed my eyes sleepily. It was morning. I must have slept in the oak tree. I was perched in the fork of two thick branches and my legs were very stiff.
As I climbed down, I noticed Mary Ann was on the ground. I must have dropped her when I was asleep.
I picked up Mary Ann and dusted her off. Then I ran into Seven Stones Cave to go find the Latchets. Hopefully, Mr. Latchet was gone by now.
As I ran through the tiring maze of rooms, I bumped into Margaret.
“Oh, Mary!” she cried. “We thought perhaps Papa hurt you or something, being a friend of Patrick’s. He left, but we think he’s keeping watch over this place!”
Margaret burst into uncontrollable tears.
I took her hands in mine and told her, “Oh, Margaret, I never thought Mr. Latchet was a bad man!”
Margaret shook her head and said, quite tearfully, “I never knew that either. But he’s been getting more and more disagreeable lately, and our hut was burned (luckily we weren’t in it) and I think it’s because of Papa. He’s in with Sadam Hussein or something, perhaps. He’s been continually disappearing and, and, oh Mary!”
She cried harder. “I feel like a criminal, having a papa that’s shot someone,” she sobbed.
“But you’re not a criminal,” I said. “You and your Mother stopped Mr. Latchet from shooting Patrick again. But oh! Is Patrick alive? I know he was only shot in the arm, but–”
“He’s not doing well,” Margaret interrupted. “He’s alive, but we think he’s sick or something. He keeps talking about you in his sleep, though, Mary. He says something about he is nearing the gates of a kingdom, but, Mary, he says he must talk to you first. Oh, let’s go see him. Come quick, now, I don’t know how long he’ll last.”
As we hurried past rooms that began to look familiar, I remembered when the General was alive, and when we first heard Patrick singing.
“Oh, Margaret! Hurry,” I cried.
Margaret, who was leading the way, picked up her pace and we soon reached Patrick.
He was lying on a mat and was tossing and turning. Mrs. Latchet hovered over him.
“I don’t know what to do,” she informed me. “Where is a doctor? Do you know of one, Mary?”
I thought for a moment. “The nurse at the General’s camp!” I cried.
“Mary,” came a faint voice from Patrick.
I leaned down and stared at him. He opened his blue eyes. “Mary,” he repeated.
“I’m here, Patrick,” I said. “What did you want to tell me? Are you going to the King like General Quint?”
Patrick nodded. “The kingdom is near, Mary,” was all he said.
“You must go fetch the doctor,” Mrs. Latchet said. “I think he is delirious or he has gone crazy.”
“No, no,” I said. “He’s not crazy. I know what he’s talking about,” I assured her. “But did the bullet come out of his arm?”
Mrs. Latchet shook her head. “It’s infected, Mary dear. But we haven’t gone out because we thought John (she meant her husband) is watching and–”
“But I disposed of his gun,” I interrupted. “How could he hurt you?”
“He’s stolen things before,” Mrs. Latchet said. She began to cry. “He’s stolen lots of things, including that darn gun. But, oh, Mary, who is going to go fetch the doctor?”
I thought about this for a moment.
“I will,” I said, trying to hide the worry in my voice. “I must go.”
“But Mary, isn’t that a big risk?” asked Mrs. Latchet. “John knows you are with Patrick.”
I nodded. “But I will go to the King if I am killed,” I said.
And then I told myself, “Mary, you mustn’t be afraid to die and go to the King. You shall see the General. You shall see the King.”
But I couldn’t seem to find anything comforting in that fact for some reason.
I stood up and walked out of the room. I would have to go get the nurse.
As I darted away, I saw the light. But this time, I wasn’t happy to see it.
I cautiously peered out of the cave entrance, and saw no one.
As I ran out into the daylight, no gun was fired.
I was safe – at that time.
As I rushed the soldier’s camp, I realized that, since the General had been killed, that perhaps they had scattered. I hoped not.
I reached the campsite, but all I saw was a mass of burnt tents and dead people.
I shuddered.
“Hello?” I called.
And then a slow, sly voice said, “Oh, Mary Westinghouse. What a pleasant surprise.”
It was Mr. Latchet.
I looked at him as steady as I could, and said, “You tried to kill Patrick. Did you kill the General, too?”
He looked at me slyly and said, “Yes. I killed the General, and I will kill that Patrick of yours. I burned all these tents and killed all these people and I shall do it again later.”
I looked at his hairy face and his unkempt brown hair and I felt like kicking him. So I did.
Then I ran, I ran, as fast as I was sure I could go, back, back, back to the cave, past the many rooms and back to Margaret, who was looking for me.
“Margaret,” I said angrily, “Your father killed the General and all his men. Your father is going to kill Patrick. I hate you!”
And then I ran, ran, ran out the door and away.
I ran to the oak tree and climbed into its branches, and cried so hard I was sure my heart would break.
To Be continued...