Down the River

Andy was drenched, shivering. He was also trying to gather his bearings. Nothing here was familiar. There were supposed to be trees all along both banks, not just near the mountains. That was another thing: those mountains were too close. They should be further away. Absolutely nothing was adding up.

“Hey!” The man referred to by Sarge snapped his fingers in Andy’s face. “I asked you a question, boy.”

“I.... I don’t.... Where am I?” Andy clutched himself, a vain attempt to warm up. “What is this place?”

One of the other men, a blonde-haired gentleman with a youthful face, laughed.

“You trying to be funny?” Sarge asked. His eyes bore into Andy as he shivered.

“N-no.”

“Good. Then I’ll ask again. Where. Do. You. Think. You’re. Going?” He jammed his fingers into Andy’s chest with every word. They all looked like they were LARPers or something, dressed to roleplay some historic battle or war. One of the World Wars, if he had to guess. Those rifles on the ground looked real, though.

Maybe they’re toys, Andy thought. Painted to look like the real thing. Yeah, that’s got to be it.

Sarge grabbed his chin. “Stop eyeballing our guns. Answer the question.”

“I-I was just up the r-river. With my friend. I f-fell in.” If these guys were roleplaying, they were good. Too good.

“How far up?”

“What?”

“Did I stutter? How far up?”

“I don’t know. Where’s the l-lake?”

Sarge leaned back, eyeing Andy with suspicion. “Sanders,” he called.

The blonde perked up. “Sir?”

“Go up river. See if you can find this... ‘friend’.”

The man raised his right hand to the opposite shoulder. “Sir!” He then grabbed one of the rifles and headed off.

“Polski!”

This time a black-haired gent straightened himself. “Sir!”

“Check the map. I want to know all nearby lakes.”

Polski raised an eyebrow. “Sir, the only lake is—”

“Double check,” Sarge spat.

“Sir.” He removed a rolled up paper from one of the backpacks. Using a nearby rock as a table, he unfurled it and began analyzing.

Turning back to Andy, Sarge said, “Tell me your name, boy.”

“I.... Who are—”

Sarge took step forward, forcing Andy to stumble back. “You are not asking me any questions, boy. Right now, you need to be thanking God I don’t just put a bullet in your head. Name. Now.”

“I... Andrew. Houston. Andrew Houston.” Andy’s shivering turned to trembling.

“Good. Now, Houston, tell us where exactly you came from.”

Andy furrowed his brow. “Wyoming. Aren’t we—”

Sarge pointed a finger, prompting Andy to shut up. A moment passed.

“Where in blazes is ‘Why-ohming’?” Sarge turned to Polski. “You ever hear of such a place?”

“No, sir.”

He looked at the fourth man, an auburn-headed fellow with green eyes. “Coulson?”

Coulson shook his head. “No idea.”

“What have we got on the map?”

Polski looked up. “Only Lake Drügeldorf, Sarge. Not seeing any others between here and base.”

Sarge grunted. “No way this is one of our boys.”

Coulson leaned in. “Sir,” he whispered, “do you think maybe he’s... y’know?”

“I’m starting to suspect. You know what they say about... them, don’t you?”

Coulson nodded. “Strange clothes. Strange country. It makes sense, doesn’t it?”

What are they going on about? Andy wondered. He didn’t like anything about this: the strange geography, these men, their demeanor. Any conclusion he came to involved everything about this situation being bad. He looked around. There were still trees around, but they were sparser here than up the river. He could still use that, he reckoned, to get away. The only problem was Sarge still watched him. Three men, with guns, and one of them watching him like a hawk. He couldn’t get away, not yet. His mind went to Suzie. Was she worried? She had to be. All she saw was him get swept away. But if he didn’t have any clue as to where he was, would she be able to find him? Even if she did, what would these psycho cosplayers do to her? Then again, maybe this was all a practical joke. Maybe they were just taking their roles a bit too seriously to mess with him. That was it. He was just being too paranoid over a joke.

He chuckled. “H-hey, guys,” he said. “You did a r-real good job o-on the outfits. A-and you got me with th-the whole a-act. Could you p-point me in the direction of the l-lake? At least the w-way back to town?”

The three men looked at him quizzically.

Polski pointed down the river. “Closest town is that way.”

Andy looked around again. “B-but town should be—”

The men continued to stare.

“H-HEY! SUZIE!”

Andy felt the force of a truck as two men took him to the ground. Sarge’s hand was in his mouth, muffling him. Coulson dug around his pockets until he found a wallet to take its place. They both used the weight of their bodies to hold Andy’s arms in place. He began kicking, twisting and turning his torso. The light of the sun was blocked out as cold metal touched his forehead. He stopped struggling. That wasn’t a repainted toy.

“Give the word, Sarge,” Polski said.

“Put it away. If he’s the same as the other two, we’ll need him alive. We should have something in the packs to restrain him.”

Polski holstered his weapon. “On it, Sarge.”

“You listen to me and you listen good, boy. I will not have you risk me or my men. You pull another stunt like that, and I swear I will shoot you myself. Understand?”

Andy nodded, thankful his wet state hid the tears streaming from his eyes.

“Good.”

Polski stepped back in sight with rope.

“You want to keep him gagged?” asked Coulson.

“Yes.”

In minutes, Andy’s wrists were tied together, a length of rope extending from them. His gag was again swapped, this time replaced with rope. Only his legs were free to move.

“Only he can tell if this boy’s lying or not,” Sarge explained. “After that, the Commandant will decide his fate.” He pulled Andy off the ground. “On your feet, Houston. You’re coming with us to Castle Drügeldorf.”