Cranberry Vishnu

Hello friends and welcome! Here, I recount the time I had to go back to London on a clandestine errand for my old mentor and patron, the infamous Madame Helena Petrovna Blavatsky.

In this chapter - I am looking back over my life before coming to the American West.

Need to catch up? Here are: Part I | Part II

Once I reached the hilltop - I allowed my mind to open and the memories came flooding back. I remembered my initial arrival in London - where my real training had begun.

If you still need to read Part I - you may find that here!

Tired as I was, I felt myself drawn to the portrait on the wall of my room. The closer I got to it, the more it seemed to pull me... as though thought forms - Madame Blavatsky's thought forms in particular were emanating from the painting itself.

It made no sense -

This portrait was not of anyone I recognized, it was not of the highest quality and I could not understand why I was being called to it with such urgency. 

Suddenly - there was rush of energy from the picture and I was dumbfounded to see - Madame Blavatsky! Right there staring out at me! She was just as I had remembered her and - her kind and confident voice was in my head - clear as a bell! 

"Hello? Hello?? Hum - well, that is most peculiar. I could have sworn I heard someone. It was as though they were in that field... right there in the grass talking. But - there is no one. Perhaps... perhaps, I am mistaken."

Defending Fort Mercer from attacks would be SO much easier if the garrison commander, Captain Fernandez would remove the bloody cannons from the ridges!

That big train behind me arrived safely thanks to the brave people who were guarding it. You bet I am proud to have been among them. It is a mighty thing, a freight train. Like a big, iron dragon - hissing and blowing boiling hot steam and its engines burn with coal-fire... but.... it needed our protection.

Now that I have decided to be a ronin samurai - I have some pretty big responsibilities alright. First and foremost is I must be stern. That is not easy, for I like to make friends. However, even when making friends I shall do so... well - sternly - I suppose.

Today, I decided that I shall walk about dressed as a wandering samurai from the Edo period! Of course I chose to be an archer who is a master of the way of the bow... kyudo.

Hello and welcome. Not all that long ago, the horrible shadow council that runs things at Instagram decided to delete four years and over 10,000 chapters of my story telling. At first it was devastating. But now I am seeing it more as a new beginning.

I was terribly restricted when it came to character limits and how frequently I could post. I think that is what got me banned, I posted too quickly, and they thought that I was a robot.

Which is ridiculous, for I am NOT a robot. Anyone who knows me will say as much too! Hum - that is for sure.

I look forward to sharing my adventures here with you very much, and also beginning the process of salvaging what little content I have and reposting it here!

PART VII

The sprint to the building I had selected for myself was not far - but the deep snow made it feel like a bad dream. 

It was the feeling of running with desperate urgency, yet not moving in accordance with my efforts.

I slogged past the locals who had agreed to help in the resistance - but they were woefully unprepared for what was happening. Some of them had pitchforks!

Really?! Pitchforks?! 

We are not pursuing Frankenstein’s monster here! This is a battle for our lives and we have villagers from a Mary Shelly novel assisting us?!

Rubble from ruined buildings littered the dirty snow filled streets mingling with the bright, arterial blood spray and bodies of the unfortunate.

Finally, I reached the structure - it had a low overhanging roof above the front door. Without breaking stride, I leapt up onto a nearby wagon and used it to spring up to the roof.

It creaked ominously under my weight but didn’t break as I lightly ran up the large, pointed roof. From here I was able to get a better view of what we were up against.

I raised my binoculars up to get a better look -  it was not good. We were hemmed in on three sides with the snowy tree-covered mountains at our backs.

Out by the creek, I could see Eli. He was holding something half submerged in the water… it was something - large… it was… hard to see. Then I watched as he pulled a dead enemy up out of the frozen creek by the collar of his coat. 

I could even see the expression of horror frozen on the dead bandit’s face. 

Then - faster than I would have thought possible - Eli whisked the body around like a rag doll and used it as a shield to block a hail of arrows fired from the hillside. The shafts seemed to sprout from the dead man’s body as they struck his chest. 

Casting the dead man aside, Eli drew his Lancaster and fired a series of thunderous shots with deadly accuracy. I could see the antagonists on the hill flail and scramble as they were cut down. 

Behind him about twenty five yards away I saw two bandits break from the cover of the treeline to rush him. They had large, razor sharp machetes drawn and I was not sure that Eli was aware of them.

I snapped my Carcano to my shoulder, sighted briefly and fired - the CRACK, CRACK  tore across the valley - and that act - it woke something up in me.

Like a bubble of ancient vapor from the bottom of a swamp, the memory floated to the surface of my mind.

As I watched the two villains drop loosely to the ground, I was reminded of the way my little ragdolls would flop onto the floor when play time was over and I was called away by my mother and father to tea. 

Just squeeze the trigger once… plop. Twice…plop.

Time for tea.

In the distance I could see Eli was aware of my assistance. He looked my way and tipped his hat, then ran towards another attacking group further to the east.

Maybe he did not need my help. Maybe he would have seen them in time... Maybe not.

I did not have time to think about that - out of the corner of my eye I could see three horsemen approaching. Again, I sighted briefly and fired directly into the chest of the first horse in the trio.

CRACK-A-BOOM!

The poor beast went down in a flailing heap, causing the other two riders behind to crash and tumble into a screaming, thrashing chaotic pile.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

Three more headshots - three more puffs of pink mist spattering the snow - three more rag dolls lifeless - I felt the heady rush of focus - I knew… I knew I could not miss!

Three more targets by the tree line! Without a thought - I was firing.

CRACK - CRACK - CRACK -

Three more headless puppets staggering in mindless circles as they spiraled to the bloody ground with their strings cut.

If I see you, then you are dead!

I heard a shot ring out right behind me - 

BANG!

As I turned to face my attacker - a brigand with a machete who fell across me knocking me to the ground!

I moved swiftly to shove him aside before he… he was already dead!?

There was a smoking hole in the center of his back. Thick, bright oxygenated blood was pumping out of the fatal wound.

I looked left - right… then I looked to the street below and saw…

“Bloody TOM! Thank you - you saved m-”

Bloody Tom didn’t seem in a chatty mood as he responded.

“If you’ve GOTTA be on that fuckin’ roof Cranny - then - watch your damn back!”

As if to emphasize his point he cycled another round into his Lancaster and… and I don’t know how he did this - but without seeming to look, he swung his gun at a 90 degree angle and [BANG!] blew a large hole clean through the skull of an invader who had been taking aim at him from behind a supply crate. 

I saw two more bandits panic and dash away from that position - I felt that excited rush as I brought them into scope - they were so close, and I could feel their fear - it tasted delicious! 

They didn’t have a chance. It was like hitting the side of a barn with the side of a barn… 

CRACKABOOM! CRACKABOOM! Two more floppy little dolls in the snow.

I moved to the highest point on the roof and took refuge behind the chimney as I scanned the open ground beyond the creek looking for Mr. Grimfrost.

Ever since Cripps abandoned me to aid the wicked Master Olcott - I have been able to make my own accommodations wherever I please.

I mostly enjoy setting my camp by water. A nice slow wide spot along the river or on the edge of a lake. This allows me to engage in my morning constitutional.

It consists of an invigorating swim in the early hours of the morning. I do this first thing before breakfast. Even Dogstoyevsky is not awake yet! I love the quiet - and the sound of the cold water all around me.

Today I found a desert iguana and tried to race him! He is so elegant in the water and was far too fast for me.

I lost track of time - the sun is already up! I have to feed Dogstoyevsky - he will be very cross with me...

After Dogstoyevsky and my trusty horse, Star Billiard are taken care of, I can have breakfast. No more of that horrible slop Cripps used to make.

I prefer chili! I have many recipes that have been shared with me by other wanderers that are quite good. Even one that uses iguana... so that little scamp was lucky I could not catch him today!

Well time to get back to work! The operation runs much more efficiently now that Cripps is no longer sniffing and drinking the chemicals. I also do not miss the odor left from his "dietary mishaps" he would leave behind the chuck wagon.

Now that I am in my 20's, I realized that it was time to take my health a little more seriously. I reflected on how fortunate I was to live in an enlightened age where modern medicine and health science has advanced so far and so fast.

The amazing work being done with mercury, electricity and iodine are really only the beginning of a long list of giant leaps forward in our compendium of medical knowledge.

When I visited the doctor in Blackwater, I was horrified to find that my body chemistry had (and I quote): "...alarmingly low levels of tar!"

Fortunately, we live in a time where a health crisis such as this can be averted by simply adopting new healthy habits.

I tried cigarettes and found them to be rather chic, although a bit harsh at first. But after multiple attempts and the support and urging of medical professionals, I was able to develop quite a fondness for them.

Although, I must say - I found cigars even more to my liking. It is true that they are less lady like, but to my surprise, I found the quality of the smoke to be much more agreeable.

Yes... yes... This is the civilized way for a modern member of society to get their tar levels back to where they should be.

Truly, a pause that refreshes...

I am so very grateful that there is a whole industry dedicated to providing such wonderful products to people who dearly need them.

Finally - I decided to go to the source!

And for that - I needed to look no further than the good folks at the heartland oil fields. After it went dark, I snuck over and waded out into the pool and when no one was looking, I stripped down and rolled around in the the viscous miasma allowing the healthful properties to soak in.

I don't remember much after that...

I woke up in Moon's camp. Apparently Titan had found me near death floating in the tar pit and was furious with me. He brewed me an herbal tea from Moon's recipe book, and I got a long lecture about the evils of the medical community's entanglements with the oil barons of the west.

I am beginning to wonder if the scientific research on tar is to be trusted... Maybe high tar levels in the bloodstream... aren't good?

I suppose I should listen to Titan on this matter. He has smoked every substance known to man that is capable of being burned - and he cares about me.

Mr. Grimfrost’s sudden appearance atop the pile of smoking rubble was surprising - but most welcome. I was relieved that he had not been hurt in the initial assault. In fact - none of us had, which bordered on the miraculous. But that had only been the first wave.

The constant sharp cracking sounds in the distance, told me that the attack was still on… It was all happening. 

I knew what I needed to do - and I hated it.

During my training in the Ural mountains, I had learned early on how to handle fear. I knew exactly what to do with the terrible physical pain and emotional trauma that comes with war and violent struggle.

There is a very specific method I had been taught for coping with the loss of friends, the destruction of beautiful things and violence in general - both received and given.

“There’s a large group coming across the creek. Gotta go - ” 

Eli muttered as he crashed out through the back window. I watched as he moved like an unstoppable juggernaut. He crashed through the snow covered brambles, leaving a huge ragged path as he rumbled off towards the small, winding stream that borders the town to the east. 

It was time for war. 

I grabbed my gear off the wall and with practiced ease, I swiftly pulled on that despised black uniform. The uniform that was gifted to me by my former mentor the Cossack Colonel, Domantovich.

As I buttoned up my vest and pulled on my boots - the muscle memory told me everything I needed to know about what was going to happen - what to expect. I could feel tears beginning to rise up - for with every piece of the uniform I put on, I removed a corresponding piece of my humanity. 

The finer feelings, concerns, emotions.. they all went in the box. A bright little ornate box shaped like a heart. I loathed that terrible box and the shelf in the back of my mind where I would place it.

But that is precisely what I did. It would wait there until the mission is over and the danger has passed. Only then, will I take that awful parcel down and open it to face all the wickedness and shame of what I have done and endured.

It will again flood through me, all the evil experiences - causing nausea, tears… and pathetic promises to myself... to do better. 

Mr. Grimfrost put his hand on the blackened frame of the smoking hole to our building and leaned in to look around. He smiled and winked at me as I robotically snapped my gloves on.

It was only a quick gesture, but the warmth and kindness conveyed by it were as out of place in that situation as they were welcome - those warm feelings - they went in the box too.

Then he turned to Tom, who was shoving bullets into his Lancaster and swearing, disgusting, things to himself.

“Tom… Tom! TOM!”

Bloody Tom dropped a bullet and turned scowling…

“Gadammit - what - WHAT?! Shit...ASS - FUCK!!! Can’t you see I’m BUSY here - trying to load my fucking GUN?!”

Totally unfazed, Mr. Grimfrost responded in that relaxed way of his.

“Yeah, so - I’ll be on the north side of town - they’re all over the woods up there in the hills. Just thought you should know since your the leader and al-”

Tom didn’t even look up as he growled into his beard cutting him off -

“Good - GO! Kill every one of those bas - no wait - make sure you save some of those fuckers for me!” 

Mr. Grimfrost nodded then turned and darted out of sight, weaving silently through the burning broken wagons and smoking bodies that littered the snow covered street. He was gone so quickly that when I looked back at the ruined opening where he had just been standing - it was as though he had never been there.

And now I was fully equipped - prepared for another life or death conflict.

But this time it was with three new allies who had cared for me when I needed help. They had become more than allies - they were friends. Yet, I could not let my affection for any of them cloud and paralyze my senses. That now was now an emotional luxury I could no longer afford.

I felt the familiar coldness penetrate my body and I became nothing more than an instrument… a thing that kills. 

My Carcano rifle was on the floor next to me on a loose floorboard. As quick as thinking, I stamped down on the end of the plank causing the weapon to fly up into my waiting hand like a living thing, which it was. 

Now that it was in my hand, that gun was literally alive… the rifle became an extension of me - and it was hungry. 

There was a “whoop” sound that came from Bloody Tom’s direction. He had seen my sudden transformation and as I equipped my rifle, I could see he clearly approved.

“Shit yeah - that’s what I’m talkin’ about! You gonna snipe some shit Cranny!?”

I cycled a round into the chamber and checked the sights.

“I’m going on to the roof.” 

Tom didn’t seem happy about that.

“Uhhh - yeah, but if you get injured it will be hard as fuck for us to get all the way up there to you.”

I didn’t have time to argue - as my response was cut short by a large caliber bullet that ripped through the side of our shack and punched a large hole in the wall mere inches from my head.

The explosive impact ejected a jagged piece of wood that spun out of the window frame and slashed my cheek. Only a slanting shaft of pale light marked its passage through the crumbling wall. I could see the dust and ash particles swirling in the bright beam as it cut through the darkened room. 

“I will BE on the bloody... ROOF.”

Tom’s eyes widened slightly, I wasn’t normally short with him. This was also reflected in his rather minimal answer.

“Ahhhhh…. Ohhhh-kay.”

I turned and raced through the snow to the large out-building at the south end of the town. It was relatively untouched and I knew it would afford me a good view of the creek line and the woods beyond. 

This is part V of a series. If you want to read parts I through IV - follow these links: Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

Or you can just jump right in here!

"...So - to be clear - when you say: 'kicking an ass,' it has nothing whatsoever to do with animal abuse?"

I had to be sure, but I could tell that Bloody Tom was getting a little tired of explaining it.

I glanced over at Eli who had been consolidating our armaments with Ezekiel, the mayor's slow witted, but affable son. They were stockpiling ammunition along the back wall of the bunkhouse we were in. The pile had grown large and alarmingly unstable, so I was glad he was there to help organize it all.

I noticed Eli pause, and take a seat on one of the crates. As he settled in, he leaned forward to watch our conversation. It was as though he were about to observe something very amusing.

Then my attentions were swiftly drawn back to our discussion as Bloody Tom slapped his hand on the table, causing the plates and utensils to rattle and dance slightly. He wasn't known for his patience.

"For fuck's sake Cranny! NO! 'Kicking ass' is when you beat someone's shit! You WIN - and... and the other dude is your bitch!"

The Coffin Riders had taken to calling me "Cranny."

At first I did not like the name at all. It sounded a little like 'granny' and also evoked dark places in old cellars where insects might hide.

Yet over time, I got used to it, and realized it's not the word - but who is saying it and how it is meant, that is most important. Now I find it has a rather endearing quality, and it would be most strange to hear my new friends refer to me by any other name.

Also, Tom's logic was starting to make sense - but now the word 'bitch' had been added to the taxonomical mix - and it's use generated more questions.

I leaned over the table and turned the key on the lamp to kill the flame as the morning sun's pale, cold rays had just started to slant into the window.

We could be attacked any day now and needed to save the kerosene.

As I pursued my line of questioning, I softened my voice to signal my earnest desire to know. I really wanted to understand how they thought about things.

"I see... but when you bring the term 'bitch' into the mix Tom, it just sounds more and more like you have some kind of vendetta against animals."

Eli made a sudden weird grunting sound as if he was stifling a sneeze. An understandable reaction, as it was quite dusty where he was sitting.

Bloody Tom opened his mouth to fire back, but I quickly put a hand up to signal I wasn't finished and continued.

"Now before you say anything - I understand that 'bitch' doesn't simply mean a female dog. I know that it is also applied to horrible ladies, and often it can be men who you are able to overpower and intimidate. But still - it just seems to me like you have something against animals in general. Animal related slurs are frequently directed at the center of whatever is vexing you in the moment."

Tom's eyes glazed over and he looked down at the rough hewn table we sat at. With his fingertips, he slowly pushed away the tin mug of coffee in front of him. It was as though this vessel contained the source of all his troubles.

"Cranny - I don't even..."

He turned to Eli, but found no help there. Eli had gone back to stacking the ammunition with Ezekiel. When he turned back to me and spoke, it was quiet... controlled, and only the slightest tremor in his voice gave away his profound annoyance. I was truly touched by my leader's sincere attempts to modulate is temper for me.

"We're gonna have to table this little discussion, because - it's time for me to go annnnnnd uh... do something meaningful now - so Cranny, I'm going to go out and kill us all some food."

I was embarrassed by my own impertinence and frustrated by my lack of ability to understand the vernacular of the west. I also wanted to do something meaningful too and made a suggestion.

"Tom... I couldn't help noticing that there are bright red barrels and crates containing TNT inexplicably scattered all over town. That could be enormously dangerous if we are attacked. Shall I remove them to a single, safe location?"

I heard that strange stifled sneeze sound come from Eli's direction again. When I glanced at him, I thought he was smiling - but it could have just been gas. It's hard to say with the quality of the canned food here in Colter.

I was most pleased to hear Bloody Tom agree with my idea.

"Uhhhh... fuck yes you should move them to a safe location. That would be a great idea Cranny! Won't lie - kinda thought that had already happened by now... but - whatever, just get all that shit stowed. Get a wagon and some help - and move those fuckers into the basement of the old church pronto!"

Eli slid the last ammunition crate into place and knocked the dust from his hands as he addressed me.

"I'll give you a hand with that Cranny -"

He turned to the young man who had been helping him - and patted him good naturedly on the shoulder.

"Thanks Zeke, you were a big hel-"

KRACK-A-BOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMM!

Zeke's head was there one moment and then suddenly... it was gone! Only his neck stump remained, belching up a terrible fountain of dark red foam. Eli's wide eyes were bright as they contrasted against his blood spattered face - yet surprisingly - he was the first to speak. He turned to Bloody Tom and me as we just stared...

"I swear - I just touched him on the shoulder. Seriously, it was just a friendly pat - it wasn't that har- "

SSSHHHHHBBBBOOOOMMMMM!

The whole front of the building exploded inwards. It was like the furniture, all the jars on the shelves - everything sprung to life and flew at us in a mad rage. Eli and I were flung like dolls against the back wall and I dimly saw Bloody Tom fly off in the opposite direction, crashing like a meteor through tables, chairs and bunks.

The ammunition boxes ruptured and the shelves caved in causing thousands of bullets to slide and cascade down, piling up around Eli and me burying us in loose clattering heaps of brass and lead.

As the ringing in my ears subsided, I could hear the sounds of gunfire and shouting coming through the smoking, blackened ruin that was once the front of our bunkhouse. I could smell smoke - sulfur...

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and realized it had been there a while and was shaking me. It was Eli -

"Cranny, you okay?"

I sat up causing the bullets that had covered me to slide off chattering onto the floor. I ran my hands over my body and did a quick assessment.

"I, uh - y-yes... fine... and you??"

Eli was already unslinging his gun and stuffing cartridges in his pockets.

"Yeah, I'm good. We're under attack and need to move quick - where's Bloody - "

From the far corner of the room, we first heard - then saw to our great relief - Bloody Tom emerge unscathed from beneath a pile of broken burning furniture and twisted metal. He wasn't happy...

"Yeah - I'm fine TOO! Thought I'd just mention that since NO ONE is asking. But I guess that's because I'm just a worthless piece of shit... But hey - I'm glad YOU'RE okay!"

Eli just rolled his eyes as though it were some inside joke - but I called to our leader over the sound of sliding debris and settling rubble. I was horrified that he would think such a thing!

"Oh Tom that is not true we were SO very concerne - "

WWWWWHHHHHAAAABLAAAAAMMM!

A huge explosion hit the church just across the narrow street from our destroyed building. The shockwave knocked us all to the ground as soot and ash rained down everywhere. Again, the ringing in my ears gave way to more shouts and gun fire. As we scrambled to our feet a second time - the light behind me was blocked by something - or someone - coming through the opening!

I spun up to my knees and drew my LeMat - but held fire - it was Mr. Grimfrost! He was standing on a pile of broken stone that had once been a chimney.

Like us, he was covered with soot, and paused calmly to brush some burning embers from the shoulder of his jacket. When he spoke it was in that gentle, relaxed way of his that made every situation seem quite reasonable.

It turned out that I had been taken all the way to the village of Colter!

It was a small, snowbound community that had somehow clawed its way into the inhospitable West Grizzlies region of Ambarino.

It turned out that gold had been discovered near the town and a group of outlaws had sworn to drive the residents out and take it for themselves. They had appealed to Bloody Tom and his posse, the "Coffin Riders" to help defend against the oncoming hoard.

It was there that we met up with Eli. The third member of Bloody Tom's posse - the "Coffin Riders."

I found Eli to be quiet, cordial and even quite humorous at times. Yet there was an ever present atmosphere of danger around him - like a storm about to break at any moment.

We had arrived before the bandits, and had about a week to set up our defenses. This was good, because I still had much recovering to do from my earlier injuries.

I spent the time re-familiarizing myself with my weapons, and rebuilding my stamina. I took quite a bit of time to get my reflexes back. I practiced drawing and firing again and again... and again, until I had regained the speed and accuracy I had lost.

I also helped Bloody Tom and my new found colleagues hunting and gathering supplies in preparation for the stand we would have to make.

It was during those relatively quiet days, that I was able to learn more about Bloody Tom, Eli and Mr. Grimfrost. As my familiarity with them grew, I realized just how fortunate I was to have literally fallen into their company.

Eli as I had described above was quiet. He generally let his actions do the talking. In spite of his gruff, irreverent nature, I found him to be thoughtful and kind to his colleagues as well as a perfect gentleman to me. This stood in stark contrast to the swift, decisive annihilation of his enemies.

Mr. Grimfrost was quite different. It was not unusual to find him off on his own just wandering around admiring the view or strolling through town. We would often walk along in complete silence, just listening to nature and being in the moment. In spite of his tranquil demeanor, Mr. Grimfrost was capable of sudden, deadly action if his friends were ever threatened.

Bloody Tom, the leader of the Coffin Riders was animated, with a unique sense of humor that was as uproariously funny as it was vulgar. He was never at a loss for words. I noticed that he was quick to anger but also, if the occasion called for it, quick to forgive. Bloody Tom was fiercely protective of his posse, and like Eli and Mr. Grimfrost he always put the others first.

I found their loyalty to each other and those they cared about touching. It made my respect for them grow beyond just their combat skills.

It was at the end of that fateful week of preparation when I realized - I would also be willing to put myself in harms way to keep them safe.

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