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Contributed by - Ed
Chapter Five: Arthur vs. Tourism
[Two days earlier]
Arthur crested the last ridge where the trail turned northward and
thankfully started to go downhill again, straps from an oversized
backpack rubbed his shoulders raw and the canvas bags he held in each
hand made his arms go numb after a while. The miserable five-day camping
trip was almost over and Arthur was ready to get back to camp. Thirty
five-kids and one ranger marched in front of him, one mounted ranger
rode behind. It was late in the day, still half an hour's walk away from
the campground; Arthur turned and asked the ranger for permission to go
relieve himself in the woods. The ranger stopped his horse. "Alright,
but make it quick."
Arthur set down the heavy pile of supplies and stepped into the wooded
thicket. As soon as the ranger was out of sight, Arthur sped up and
doubled back to the edge of a horse pasture north of the trail. Breaking
a stick into a sharp point he went to his knees in front of a tough
waist-high weed with pale blue flowers. He stabbed the stick into the
ground, digging to either side then he grasped the section a root as
long as his hand. He broke off a piece, set it aside, and then filled in
the hole around the plant, and threw some dry leaves and sticks over the
disturbed soil.
Arthur scratched the root's surface, sniffing its acrid harsh odor. It
was one wild plant that he recognized immediately, at first he was
surprised to see it in Eastern Europe, but he guessed that it was one of
those invasive species that spread worldwide. This plant was common in
fields back home... Arthur remembered his uncle telling about the
peculiar effects it had on a cow of his that ate some of the leaves.
Locoweed, devil's trumpet, prickly burr, jimson weed: many names for the
same toxic plant. To most it was just a tough weed common along fields
and roadsides, to the rancher it was a poisoning threat to livestock,
some reckless people even used it to get high, to Criminal #88588 it
presented an interesting opportunity.
***********
[Seven days earlier]
Khoras showed up early for his Friday afternoon shift. His leather tool
belt was packed with hammer, measuring tape, pliers, screwdrivers and
just about everything a handyman might need. He hummed a tune and walked
toward the main office. Passing by the amphitheater, he stopped to watch
the ranger's class of about thirty kids. They had all their scout gear
spread out on the concrete benches, along with books and samples of
rocks, plants, and insect collections. The ranger wasn't there yet; the
only adult present was the criminal, standing to the side by the stage,
looking frustrated.
Khoras waded through the raucous group; he was a curious sort by nature
and always wished to know what was going on around the campground. "So
Criminal number 88588, are you teaching these students?"
�Hardly... Ranger Kerkyra found out that I have a college degree in
science back in the US and she made me into her assistant for the
course." Arthur sighed. "It doesn't help at all; I mean all their
coursework is written in Danubian... It's so embarrassing; I have to get
twelve-year-old kids to read to me. They probably think I was arrested
for being too stupid to live unsupervised."
�No," Khoras smirked. "I'm pretty sure they know what you did. Maybe
it's not America, but we still have TV here, you know. You're probably
the only spy we've ever caught."
�I was hoping you'd catch another one and get the spotlight off me for a
while." Arthur shrugged. "I know they made a big deal out of it, but all
this worry about me is way overblown. Why should anyone be afraid of me?
I've got to be the worst spy ever. I get caught on my first mission;
worse, I didn't even know I was on a mission."
Khoras tilted his head curiously. "How could you not know?"
"I didn't want to ask too many questions and mess up the deal; I was
thinking more about the money and how I was going to spend it."
�How was that?"
�Well... I didn't want to be caught with that much cash on me so first I
was going to buy something expensive in Germany; a watch or ring or
something. Then I would've sold it to a cash buyer back in the US so
there wouldn't be a record, or taxes. Beyond that I didn't have any
definite plans except..." Arthur couldn't help but snicker. "I wanted to
do some traveling, thought I might take off and spend some time
overseas!" Arthur flicked the collar with his middle finger making a
dull metallic ring. "This wasn't what I had in mind at all."
Khoras looked concerned. "What about your family? You would leave them
to go overseas? You would be alone, unmarried?"
�I�ve been on my own for years." Arthur explained. "I liked it. I was
free to go where I wanted, do what I wanted. I had some friends, and a
girlfriend but nothing to hold me down."
�Has your lady friend visited you since your arrest?"
�Her?" Arthur chuckled. "No way... that girl stayed too drunk to find
her way to the airport, let alone here. I figure she just liked me
because I bought her stuff;" Arthur shrugged. "I liked her anyway,"
Arthur put his hands up as if griping two spheres. "Her butt was
perfectly symmetrical- as a man of science I can appreciate that sort of
thing, it belonged on a statue or billboard or something. The other
thing I liked about her was that she laughed at my jokes. Her name was
Charlotte...."
Khoras shook his head. "At your age, you didn't plan on marriage?"
Arthur shrugged. "The lovely and talented Charlotte was what Americans
call a party girl; fun to date but not the sort you marry. See, in
America it's not like here at all, you don't have to get married, a lot
of young people, men and women, live alone or stay together for a while
then go their separate ways. You don't have to spend much time with your
family either... I mean, I haven't been to my mother's house in over
three years... aside from my sister, I'm not very close to any of my
family anymore... strangers almost."
�American freedom sounds lonely."
Arthur started to argue but just glanced over at the scouts instead.
Khoras picked up one of the scout's workbooks and thumbed through it.
"You've been here what a year?"
�Thirteen months."
"You said you couldn't read this?"
�Uh... a little. I've only had three weeks of formal classes, most of
that was on speaking the language, not reading or writing. I've tried to
teach myself but it's hard. My host back in Rika Chorna had some
children's books with pictures that I've studied some so I can read and
write about puppies and balloons but that's about it."
Khoras shrugged, still grinning at Arthur and the pack of rowdy kids. "I
guess you're nearly ready to go on the big hike."
�I am?" Arthur asked.
Then the ranger arrived to start her class and the handyman excused
himself. Arthur waited for Ranger Kerkyra to tell her only assistant
about the big hike, the five-day excursion into the wilderness.
Arthur wasn't sure if he wanted to go or not; life around the
campgrounds was rough but he at least had his own cot and the food was
good. One thing Arthur didn't have to worry about though, was making
decisions... the rangers would no more ask his opinion than the cook
would ask a chicken whether it wanted its head chopped off or not.
Ranger Kerkyra said: 'You're coming with us.' and it was settled.
That night Arthur thought about the scouts. He resented the little
devils; they showed him no respect at all. The kids knew he was the
lowest social class: a collared criminal; worse a foreign criminal,
worse still that he was the enemy spy, disliked by almost everyone. The
kids picked up on that quickly and became pests in the way that came
natural.
Arthur sometimes considered revenge but gave up on it, though annoying,
they were just a bunch of bratty kids and not worth his time. Still, he
somehow never got around to warning them about the wasps that nested in
the canoe racks or the thickets of stinging nettles that naked swimmers
discover along sandy stream banks.
But as August ninth got closer Arthur found himself getting more and
more civic minded. He badly wanted to do something in service to the
Duchy, something heroic that his spokesman could use to get a switching
canceled. He hoped this camping trip would provide the opportunity;
maybe some kid would fall and need rescuing. Maybe he could protect them
from something. Were there any dangerous wild animals in the forest that
might want to eat children? He could only hope.
Another possibility: it was well established that kids will stick about
anything in their mouths, maybe he thought; they might eat the wrong
plant or mushroom... Arthur imagined himself stepping in heroically to
prevent such a tragedy.
"Ha!" Arthur scoffed. "Fat chance of that happening... hmm... but there
might be a way of nudging the odds... say... if some hypothetical
criminal secretly put something toxic in their collection of edible wild
plants and then waited for a suitably dramatic moment, right before the
meal was to be prepared... a noble and virtuous hero might swoop in to
save the day."
�Ooh!" Arthur felt a chill run across his skin or perhaps the beginnings
of a rash. "That's a classic hero move: saving children. That
hypothetical criminal would have to get rewarded for that!"
**********
[Three days earlier]
The campers were so damned needy... so willing to flag down the criminal
and make some stupid demand, as if he didn't have enough to do. They
asked him for help, even though he didn't have a choice. It didn't
matter to them if he had to work extra hours after supper to finish up
jobs because of their constant interruptions.
�Would you carry my luggage?" Asks some lazy woman who's been sitting on
her butt all day.
�Criminal, could you fetch us some water?" Asks a smirking young man
before pointing to four gigantic plastic containers.
�Could you help us with our tent?" Asks a couple who were apparently
unable to figure out the complexities of an A-frame tent.
Then the kids arrived, a busload of them; most looked to be in their
early teens. They were enrolled in some kind of class taught by the
rangers. They did coursework having to do with plant ID, natural
history, wilderness survival, and ordinary scout type stuff.
One day after work Ranger Kerkyra called out to Arthur. "Criminal number
88588," she said. "Stop a moment, I wish to speak with you."
Arthur cringed; nothing good ever resulted from an official calling you
out to talk. He was tired, hot, and really dirty after a hard day of
work. Arthur turned to face the ranger. Her eyebrows arched and mouth
smirked as she looked him over, disapproving of his appearance.
Arthur watched her expression. Although rangers were public officials
and all, he usually didn't kneel unless they insisted. She didn't give
the order or nod at the ground expectantly; instead Ranger Kerkyra got
right down to business.
�Criminal number 88588, I heard something." She looked skeptically at
the exceptionally dirty creature in front of her. "I don't know if it's
accurate... but I heard it mentioned that you had a university education
back in America, a focus in science. Is that true?"
Standing there, naked and covered in all sorts of grime, Arthur had to
admit that he didn't look all that scholarly. His day had been spent
with the maintenance crew, replacing old rusty cast iron sewer pipe
underneath the dining hall. The worst parts of the job were, of course,
given to the criminal. Black mud, rust, grease, and other unidentified
stuff streaked his skin; it was going to take a lot of horse shampoo to
get that scrubbed off.
Reluctantly, Arthur told the ranger that the rumor was correct; though
dirty and smelly, he was, at least educated.
She looked conflicted for a moment, maybe deciding if such a filthy
animal could be capable of rational thought. Then she made up her mind,
nodded quickly, and gave Arthur the good news. He would be her assistant
in the scout's wilderness course.
She seemed eager then, speaking rapidly, telling how she had it all
figured out. It was, she said, a simple matter of rescheduling his
workday to allow another ten hours per week to help with her class.
Arthur noticed that during this talk she never said she would replace
the other work, just add to it- but nobody ever said that being a
collared criminal was easy.
************
[10 Days earlier]
Arthur grumbled but still walked across the park toward the mouth of
Corpse Creek. Two hundred meters ahead the stream ran swift, narrow and
deep under an arched stone bridge then spilled into the Black River
Reservoir, beyond the bridge was a popular hiking trail that climbed
atop the rugged cliffs north of the campground, where the trail wound
amongst vertical spires of white quartz sandstone that Danubians called
The Finger bones. Whoever named these features must have been awfully
depressed, Arthur thought, or scared.
Arthur had spent an hour sitting near this particular bridge every day
after supper for the past week. He was so tired that he was tempted to
skip it; nothing had happened so far but he would nearly die if he
missed it. Ahead through gaps in the trees Arthur saw movement, he
picked up his pace but not enough to draw attention.
There was a figure on the bridge. "Wait a second," he said to himself.
"A young man wearing a yellow shirt and a red beret standing by the
water. Aaaw... hell! Not yet! What the..."
Arthur saw the scene unfold, unable to stop it. The French tourist
backed up against the knee-high stone, fumbled with a disposable camera,
flailed dramatically, fell off the bridge, splashed into the water and
screamed for help. The swift current pushed him out into the lake.
Arthur sprinted toward the commotion swearing under his breath. "Damn
it, I'm not even ready..." Then just as he got to the bridge Arthur's
heart sank, a swimmer was in the water halfway out to the flailing
Frenchman already. The rescuer was nude and wore a temple collar. Arthur
wanted to stop and throw rocks at the drowning Frenchman but he forced
himself to act normal and concerned, running down to the shore and
helping the swimmer drag the Frenchman onto the bank.
A crowd soon formed around the rescuer and rescuee. Arthur watched with
disgust as the Frenchman loudly gave his thanks to the brave and
selfless swimmer who had saved his life, the guy was really laying it on
thick, playing up to the crowd. He acted drunk.
Arthur left the scene; he just couldn't take it anymore. It was time to
go back to the stables anyway, he had more work to do, but no matter how
much he tried, he just couldn't force it out of his mind.
�I can't believe it!" Arthur fumed. "That stupid drunken Frenchman...
I'm the only fucking criminal in this park and he can't pick me out of
the crowd? Mistakes a penitent for me! Just find the naked guy wearing
orange work boots and the big metal collar with numbers on it- what's so
damn hard about that?"
�And that penitent," Arthur clenched his fists. "That guy stole my
drowning victim! Now he's probably going to get public recognition, a
reward, they'll probably give that bastard a parade." Arthur kicked at
the dirt. "He's using my five-hundred dollar French drowning victim and
I'm not getting jack!"
The more Arthur thought it over the worse he felt. Two smuggled letters,
all his sister's hard work finding a willing tourist, and the
Frenchman's five hundred dollar fee: all wasted. It was nearly July and
getting uncomfortably close to August ninth and a trip back to one of
the horrible rooms in the basement of the Police Headquarters.
Arthur had figured that if he could publicly save the life of another
human being (even a Frenchman) the criminal court judges would have had
no choice but to reward him for that act of heroism. But his plan failed
miserably and time was running out, he knew he better think of something
quick. Since being a hero didn't work out... Arthur decided that if he
was going to improve his reputation he would have to take off the kid
gloves and slip on the gloves of villainy! (Insert villain laughter
here)
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Arthur vs...
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