No Romance Chapter 15, "Johnson World"

Chapter 15, “Johnson World”

And they all looked so much like Vanasmas that I started laughing, right there on the ground, at their feet, at their mercy. Sun-browned skin, small dark eyes, long black hair in a ponytail down their backs, and light, open clothing made of leather, wool, and other animal skins. All like clones. Did the gods really lack that much creativity?

            “You’re Johnsons?” I said between laughs.
            The leader of the group kicked me in the leg. I knew he was the leader because three of them were carrying hand-carved bows in their hands and he had a crossbow---a Ghost-Hunter Eagle 720 356G Quantum Crossbow, to be specific. Quite a weapon, and definitely not made on Rainswept Isle.
            “Of course we are,” he said with a flat voice, deeper and slightly less-friendly than that of  Vanasmas. “And you are the hero, The One Chosen By The Gods. We’ve been expecting you.”
            I noticed for the first time that one of them was carrying a bundle of rope.
            Then I sighed, wondering what had happened this time.
            So they bound us with the rope and got us marching in the same direction we were already going. I mentioned this to them, that we were already going there, but they didn’t seem very interested. Only the leader, the one with the pretty good crossbow, ever responded to me.
            “Don’t you think it’s a little different, you entering our country bound like the slave you are, than just walking on in?” he said without looking at me.
            “Hey, I know I’m a slave. You don’t have to rub it in. But why tie us up?”
            “Do you know what those cables are that you’ve been following, Hero?”
            “No, actually. I don’t.”
            “They’re for a telegraph system,” he said with a hint of boasting in his voice. “Soon we will be able to afford a telephone network.”
            Telegraph. Seriously? But he said it with a kind of pride. What century was this? Even at Butterknife Bay, time seemed to have stopped on this island. Isle.

And wait...the cables stretched across the island, from the Cardaccians, all the way to the Johnsons....

Ohhhhhhhhh.

“I think I got it,” I said, grinning. “Did friendly old Djetta send you a telegram? Did he sell us out like he did his whole tribe? Aw, what a nice guy.”

The leader grunted in reply. It sounded like a positive grunt. Couldn’t be certain, though.

“You know, humans developed language so they could communicate with more accuracy and precision,” I said. “And it seems that somehow you know perfect English, so I’d suggest you use that to tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Shut up, slave.”

And now the “slave” comment from before made a little more sense. It appeared that we had not just been sold out by Djetta, but actually sold by Djetta. Boy, I was discovering new truths all over the place.

The march hadn’t gone on for long when we approached the end of the road. It was marked with a sign saying, “End of the Road.” Then, just a few yards past that and jammed into the rich dark soil beyond the dry dirt road, there was another sign that said, “Nothing past here. Go away.”

“It looks like we should just go away,” I said to the Johnsons. “You clearly don’t want visitors.”

“But we have them, nonetheless. So we do what your people have done to us. Tie you up and take you to the chief.”

“Hey, I’m not with---”

“Shut up.”

They led Annie and I---she was taking this as well as I was, actually! just resigned, weary, bored---through the wild, untamed jungle until we got to their civilization, which, I thought at first, seemed to be pretty cool, as it was in the trees. Treehouses built up in the highest branches! Wooden walkways swirling down around the trunks with rickety bridges connecting them from tree to tree. It looked like a lot of fun!

But that wasn’t the bulk of their settlement. No, that was out of the trees and near the seashore. An entire village of not tents like the Cardaccians, but portable modern buildings that could be taken down and put up again somewhere else in the same day. Reminded me of certain school buildings back home.
            A group of Johnson tribesmen, villagers, whatever they want to call themselves, gathered around me and the ones who had brought me. When I saw the second or third man who, like the guys that captured me, looked exactly like Vanasmas, I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or panic. It was funny, yeah, but at the same time, I don’t want to seem insensitive and prejudiced. I swear I’m no racist, but they all had the same placid face, the same small eyes, the same high cheekbones, the same long hair. They really did! I wish I could prove it to you. The only thing I can say in my defense is to flip it on the gods. They created the Cardaccians as shallow simpletons, and they created the Johnsons as clones and cardboard cut-outs. The gods have probably never met a real island native before. But to be fair, I’m not sure if I have either. Whatever, though. It’s all their fault. Don’t blame me.

---

            Of the group that had gathered, four stepped forward and started examining Jack, who had been pushed to his knees at the empty center. They stood in a line. The first three had varying tattoos over their whole bodies but the arms of the fourth were completely covered in thick, dense inked images.
            “I have brought the slave,” said the Johnson who had spoken to Jack. “Where is the chief?”
            The nearest Johnson turned to the one behind him and said something in a different language. It sounded like “Bozzle mazoo tacky crayon.” That second one then turned to a third one, who was behind him, and spoke another language. “Garrith to the zaiquamote.” This third one said to the fourth and final one, “Rois potche teregum.” The fourth, the one with arms practically soaked in tattoos, nodded and said, “Guma tche aruba.” This third passed this on to the second, saying, “Zera zeru moite.” The second one turned to the first and said, “Elverizan, saya mentozo.” Finally the first turned back to the original.
            “The chief is in the loo.”
            In reaction to this, some of the villagers stirred. (There were women among them, too; did Jack tell you that? And the women all looked different! Different in that some were wider than others.)
            “Then what shall we do with the slave?”
            The chain started over again, going from the first to the second to the third, then bouncing back, eventually turning it into English: “The pumpkins this year are enormous.”
            “No, no, you idiot. The slave. What does the Vice Chief think we should do with him?”
            “Igza mooza boincee agatha tey” to “Theral mera taikwando” then arcing back like a boomerang with “Mathereth selvrian toa ah lee” and “Darther ni tea mayon” and becoming “Zebras are an excellent animal.”
            The patience of the original Johnson seemed to be straining. “Why must this nation speak so many different languages?” he said as he gripped his head in his hands.
            Unfortunately this tripped the translation wire, and his words proceeded to be re-translated through the three part chain. The response finally came back as, “We are as a hydra, to be undefeated by low intellect and reasoned by the greater of the three alligators.”
            The original Johnson looked away and sighed. It sounded an awful lot like Jack’s sigh.
            “Fine then, I’ll wait. I’ll wait for the chief. The arbitrary bilinguality be cursed.”
            For some reason, this angered the Vice Chief, and he sent a message back.
            “Unintended printers of the sacred alligator teachings be declared! Praise the vine!”
            The original Johnson said nothing back. The beautiful, handsome, gloriously intelligent, and distinct-looking villagers muttered amongst themselves, using at least two middlemen per exchange.
            Eventually that muttering grew louder in tone and the gathered group parted as a man wearing a grass skirt and who was shaped very differently than any of the other Johnson men entered the scene.
            “Enough chatter, enough chatter, hup hup!” said this stout, thick man, who seemed to be the chief. He held a long narrow pipe in his hand that he periodically stuck between his teeth and puffed. “Loo time be over, what now, what now? Three Seas, what is your report, hupp kupp?”
            The original Johnson stepped forward.
            “We have taken the slave in custody, Chief Treike.”
            The chief took his pipe out.
            “Where? Where is he, renedebdeb?”
            And put it back in.
            “Before you, Chief Treike.”
            The chief looked down and saw Jack. He really didn’t have to look down, as Jack’s eyeline, even when he was kneeling, was only a few inches below the chief’s.
            “Lovely, lovely fellow,” he said, pipe in his teeth. “And a lovely girl with him. What gorgeous hair she has!”

The Johnson villagers breathed echoes of this sentiment, agreeing with ahs and oohs and other sounds of cheerful affirmation.

“Give them to me, Three Seas,” said Chief Treike. “I will interrogate them and find out their secrets before we put them to work. Yes, yes, lovely hair, and a kind face! Mup mup.”

Three Seas stood Jack and Annie up and pushed them forward. Annie met Jack’s eyes with a look of terror and pleading. He merely looked mildly interested. The chief led them down a path and to a secluded area behind one of the portables and next to the jungle’s edge. There he looked at them intently, puffing away on his pipe.

“Where do you come from?” Chief Treike finally asked.

“Here’s a question for you,” Jack said. “Why all the languages?”

“Ah, that! Merp derp. Yes. A long time ago we tried to compel all of our people to learn another language so as to be more viable in the job market. Yes. We all ended up learning different languages because we didn’t know which were the most useful. It was only after that that we learned there wasn’t really a job market on this island.”

            “Isle,” said Jack. “Yeah, that really could have been foreseen. As you are by now aware, a single company dominates the entire tropical island smuggling industry.”
            “That raises an interesting question, young man. What I was essentially asking before. Whose side are you on, if I may ask, merp merp? Do you work for Golbez Industries?”
            “No,” said Jack. “I work for you, now.”
            “My, yes!” said the chief, his eyes growing big. “I would love for you to come work for me! For us! For vengeance on our enemies! You have corporate secrets, dupp kupp?”
            “No, no secrets. I never actually worked for Golbez. I am an...independent investigator. And a friend of Vanasmas.”
            Annie looked briefly at Jack, but turned away quickly, strain and anxiety in her features.
            Chief Treike took on a serious expression.
            “You are a friend of our brother’s?” he asked, peering deeply at Jack.
            Jack blinked slowly and nodded once. “I am.”
            “What is your name?”
            “They just call me...Hero.”
            “Interesting, hup hup,” said Chief Treike, breaking off the somber tone. He grabbed what seemed to be two pieces of paper that had been stuffed into the top of his grass skirt. “Hubble sprocky. Let me read this. These two notes. These two telegrams, that came last night.” He cleared his throat and read:

            “To my ever glorious and enlightened gentlemen---
                        I came across this poor man and woman---wonderful workers, praise the

vine---who gave themselves to me, and I thought that you should have them instead,

because of your warmth and generosity towards me, and the sunshine your people

emanate out of every orifice. Just thought you should know I was thinking about you!

            Your ever humble servant,

            Djetta Cardaccian

P.S. Read this to him: Ignadjus”

“Now, Hero, what do you think of THAT, hup hup?” said Chief Treike, peering over the top of the telegram.

“I---” Jack started.

“But shortly after that we got another one. Also from the same source. Here---”

“Brothers---

            This man is The One Who Was Chosen By The Gods. He knows the location of

our treasure. Your treasure, I mean. The treasure that rightfully belongs to you. The treasure of the gods. He can lead you to it. If he claims otherwise, don’t believe him. I have seen his powers with my own eyes. So even if he thinks he does not know where the treasure is now, he will be able to find it. Use his enslavement to this end.

            From,

            Vanasmas

            I mean,

            Jetta

            P.S. Take a Mobile Mouse unit with you on the treasure hunt”

“That’s not entirely Djetta’s way of saying things, but we get it,” said the chief. “You know where our legendary treasure is, do you not?”

Jack thought a moment. There was a short intake of breath as he was about to say something, but nothing came out. Then he did it again, but still nothing came out. And finally a third time. Still silent.

“What are my options?” he said at last.

“We have you bound!” said Chief Treike. “The One Who Was Chosen By The Gods! We will do with you as we please, and that includes farming and fishing. Both are needed this time of year. And every other time of year, too. We are good hunters already. But farming and fishing especially. We need laborers in the fields and ponds. Djetta said you were an excellent worker. We will have you work for us.”

“That’s my only option?”

“Or you can lead us to the treasure that is rightfully ours.”

“Hmm. So you’re not worried at all about having the Chosen One of the gods or whatever finding the treasure of the gods? That doesn’t present any concerns for you?”

“I’m not sure I understand the connection, herp derp.”

“I don’t understand either, but I imagine there’s something there. But let’s change that scenario slightly. You’re not worried at all about having The One Who Was Chosen By The Gods working out in the fields, where he could easily escape without a single wound or even care in the world.”

Chief Treike hesitated and looked legitimately troubled by this. “Well, no, no. That seems rather like a non-sequitur now, doesn’t it, hupp kupp? But that leaves the perfectly viable option of you taking us to the treasure.”

Annie spoke up then. “Could we have some time and space to discuss this, please?”

Chief Treike turned to her with adoration. “Beautiful woman, your wish shall be granted. Hupp kupp. If your hands weren’t tied up in the moment I would be so honored to kiss one of them. Confer away!”

And Chief Treike departed from their presence. Just around the corner of the portable.

            Annie turned to Jack and said in a quiet but breathless voice, “Do you know where this treasure is, then?”
            “Kind of,” Jack said. “I did determine that it was somewhere near the encampment, which is at the base of Mt. Diabolo, which seems like a pretty good spot for a long-lost treasure to be. Also...”
            “Also what?”
            Jack’s face took on a guilty expression. “Well, I may actually know where the map is, too. Shh, shh!”
            Annie had started and let out a few exclamatory sounds. “But...you told Hilti ‘No’!”
            “Actually I said ‘...No’. Ellipses are key things to look for when people are talking about secrets.”
            “But why’d you lie?”
            “Because it obviously wasn’t the right time! And frankly, I really don’t care about this treasure. I say let it rot, hidden away forever.”
            “But that seems to be the whole reason you’re on this island in the first place!”
            “Isle. But yeah, exactly. That’s exactly my point.”
            “Jack, you can’t just live a life of rebellion forever! Sometimes you need to be humble and just do as you’re told!”
            “That sounds suspicious. Are you trying to get me to find the treasure for your own needs? Or should I not have asked that yet?”
            “Oh good heavens. Come on, Jack. What would I do with the treasure?”
            “I don’t know! But I don’t know what those other guys would do with it either! I don’t know what anyone would do with treasure! Especially the treasure of the gods! What good would it do?”
            “But don’t you want to find out what that means, the treasure of the gods? There’s a connection there, with the whole Chosen By The Gods thing, you have to admit!”
            Jack thought in silence for a moment. Then he cringed and said, “Yeah, yeah, I do want to figure that one out. Damb it! Why do I have to get curious all of a sudden?”
            “So let’s just help them out! Figure out all this mystery and then we can leave the island. Together.”
            “Isle,” Jack said. “Yeah, okay. But I’m not going to use the map. I need to retain the upper hand. I need to have some semblance of control.”
            “But then how will you find it?”
            “Oh, you come on this time. You heard that telegram written by ‘Jetta.’ I’m the hero. I could find it if I tried. Or if the gods needed me to. And they probably do need me to. That’s actually the strongest thing we have going for us, I think. But damb it, no, I refuse to look for it. I’ll lead them along, I’ll go in the right direction, but I don’t think anyone on this island, isle, really deserves it. I don’t like any of them. And YOU’RE starting to make me suspicious, too. Sometimes I feel like I don’t know you at all. Especially after that prank back there at the encampment.”
            “I assure you, MY motives are perfectly innocent.”
            “I thought YOU were innocent too, until that moment when you pulled a Paula.”
            “Jack---you had given me the jacket. Remember?”
            “Oh. Is that how that happened?”
            “I think so. I just felt this energy from it. I think it...pushed me. Pushed me out there. That wasn’t...me. That wasn’t me anymore. I don’t know who it was.” She stared at him, half ashamed, half helpless.
            He looked on her frail figure a long time. Thinking. Remembering. Reflecting.
            Connecting.
            “Okay,” he finally said. Then, with a louder voice, “Chief Treike! We’re done conferring.”
            The chief came bustling around the corner, his bent arms waggling back and forth as much as his feet as he moved. “Yes, yes, and what have you decided, hup hup, praise the vine?” he said.
            “There’s really the only option. We’re going to help you find this treasure.”
            “Excellent, excellent!” said the chief with pleasure and a clap of his hands.
            “But first I’m going to need to know something. And that is why you want it so badly. Why your brother Vanasmas is so dedicated to obtaining it. Why do you deserve it over the Cardaccians? Over Golbez Industries? I expect those answers, along with one other condition that I just remembered: we get some food. I’m starving. I don’t think we’ve eaten since breakfast, and by now it must be past noon.”
            “I will be happy to discuss this with you over food! We have the ripest fruit and the saltiest, most preserved of all meats! And I will get our storyteller, the great Napahwunga. Hupp hupp, praise the vine!”
            “What about rice? Do you have any rice?”
            “No rice, no. I told you our fields have not been worked well as of late.”

“For the last 24 hours we’ve only had some cartons of Chinese food,” Jack said. “Though lemon chicken can be pretty good cold, you still need fried rice with it, and the Cardaccians didn’t give us any. And I really didn’t appreciate that.”

“And I didn’t appreciate getting tricked and sold into slavery,” Annie remarked. “So we were both offended by those people.”

---

“It started out as a bright and sunny day!” Napahwunga Johnson said with wide eyes and open fingers as he set the scene with his gestures of delight.
            Out in an open pavilion in the middle of Johnson World, Jack and Annie ate ravenously, as if they hadn’t eaten in days, but of course they ate breakfast just a few hours earlier. (To be fair, they had been consuming a lot of calories lately.)

“And our people, the Indies, could hear the birds singing, the flocks flying, the flapping of their wings, the gentle waves propelling their ship onward. And our treasure, given us by the gods of ancient times, shone like the sun, which also shone, and shone like the treasure.”

Napahwunga’s open hands closed down, and his fingers curled as if he had claws.

“Then a black swirling hell enveloped them, cutting them off from the sun, and the face of the sky was thundercloud.”

“Its face was thundercloud?”

“Thundercloud, yes. And a big barrowing BOOM sounded, and the earth rumbled and quaked and the water went SWOOSHHHH and THWUUHHHH and PASHHHH and the tyrannical tidal wave crashed the boat against the rainswept island!” (“Isle.”) “And when our ancestors awoke out of their electrified sleep they found themselves on the shore! The southern shore! and the ship was gone, no twigs or tatters, planks or pieces. The water had taken their ship and their treasure away and deposited them there alone!”

“Weefherdthsprt,” Jack said through a full mouth. Both Annie and Napahwunga watched and waited for him to swallow so he could clarify what he said, but he wasn’t paying attention so he just put more food into his mouth.

“As I was saying, or rather, regaling!” said Napahwunga, resuming his wide-eyed look and gesticulations, “We were lost on the beach and didn’t know what to do! Oh, nooooo! But the great grandleader of the Indie people, our noble ancestor Dunde Bin---”

“Question,” Jack said after swallowing at last. “Why were you on a ship with your treasure?”

“Religious persecution,” said Napahwunga, shaking his head bitterly. “We were persecuted by a religious cult. Three of the white men saved us by teaming up with Dunde Bin. They were the great John Archibald Leach and his friends Doug Equalbanks and Scot MacDowell.”

Jack raised his eyebrows. My grandfather?

Napahwunga continued on.

“They happened to be in the area and helped us deflect the awful spears of the cult. The cult believed in multiple deities that sought to control mankind, and wanted to help them do it. We defeated them in battle and took their great treasures and sought a paradise far, far away where we would never be persecuted again.”

“And this treasure became something of a chemical necessity over the course of this voyage?” Jack said with an incredulous, lopsided grin.

“It became very, very important to us,” said Napahwunga sincerely, clutching his hands to his chest in a very, very heartfelt manner. “There was a power hidden in that treasure that was rightfully ours. It was the treasure of the gods.”

            “And that’s what Vanasmas is seeking,” Jack said under his breath. “Now tell me why you deserve this treasure more than the Cardacciansd. “They seem to want it just as badly as you do.”
            Napahwunga spat on the linoleum floor. “They robbed the sacred cantaloupe vine! We had no choice but to take it back from them and shun and hate them forever.”
            “Ah, so it was yours originally. But what divided your people in the first place? Weren’t you all Indies?”
            “They were East Indies and we were West Indies. So of course conflict arose. A classic divide between East and West. And I am proud to say that John Archibald Leach, the hero of all the Indies, sided with us. He heroically went into the jungle with his two friends to find our treasure and recover our glory. But then---then the villainous and treacherous Scot MacDowell stole the map he had helped make with John Archibald Leach and Doug Equalbanks. And he stole away, never to be seen again.”
            That makes sense too, Jack thought, Golbez’s fatness and corruption in his mind’s eye.

“The two white men barely made it back to Johnson World alive, and could never remember how they got to the site of the treasure. Of course, it wasn’t named Johnson World in that day. Later, because our tribe loved John Archibald Leach so much, Dunde Bin, our great grandleader, named his son after him, and our tribe changed their names too. We are all named after Zygaborn Terasmytha Na’vantasius Megalorian Seventenchia Johnson.”

            “And you’ve sent searchers after the treasure again?”
            “A generation has not passed by without at least a dozen of our tribesmen delving into the jungle to search out the treasure. But only one ever came back. He spoke of a monster guarding it. A monster that he had seen eat the others that went with him. He was never the same again. But that list does not include our brother Vanasmas, who has made it farther than any before him, and works tirelessly to regain the treasure for our people. We have not spoken with him in many moons, but we know he is fighting for us.”
            Jack turned to Annie. “So Vanasmas has some claim to it after all. Huh!”
            “What, did you think he was trying to steal it?” said Napahwunga, offended.
            “More or less.”
            “Please don’t think of our brother in that way!” said Napahwunga, brow creased and eyes wide. “He is doing a sacred work.”
            “He tried to kill me on multiple occasions,” Jack said plainly. “But I suppose I can forgive him. It wasn’t really his fault. I blame it all on the gods. I guess they needed him to.”
            “You are saying things I do not understand,” said Napahwunga.

“Yes, well, thank you for your story, Napahwunga,” Jack said, pressing a napkin to his lips before making a very deliberate bow of his head.

            With perfect timing Chief Treike came waddling up the stairs of the pavilion followed by three Johnsons. One of them I was fairly sure was the one who had caught me, the one they called Three Seas. But with the Johnsons you couldn’t really be sure.
            “Fed and watered, hup hup?” said Treike.
            “Y---”
            “Good good. Now, onto business! Onto business! I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Sometimes I find myself saying things twice, and I don’t know why. Gip gap! Here are the three men who will be your companions in the jungle. This one is Alligator Ay. He has the jaws of an alligator!”
            Alligator Ay did look slightly different from the usual mold. He had a broader jawline and kept his mouth partly open. The tattoo beneath his leather vest on his chest showed a large alligator, or it could have been a crocodile, with its mouth open, as if waiting for food to show up and obligingly deposit itself inside.
            “And then Butterfly Bee. He floats and stings, kupo kupo!”
            Butterfly Bee also had a slightly different feel to him, though Jack couldn’t figure out what actual facial feature made the difference. He seemed sharper, more agile. Maybe his eyes were thinner? But in comparing Butterfly Bee to Alligator Ay, and then to Three Seas, Jack couldn’t find a single discrepancy, and couldn’t explain what about them gave off differing auras. Maybe it was just that. Auras.
            “Pleasure,” Jack said, nodding at each of them.
            “And Three Seas! You got to know him. He’ll be the one to speak English!”
            “Joy,” Jack said a little sarcastically before sighing. Then, muttering to himself, “At least now I know what the difference is.” Then he wasn’t sure if he had meant the difference between the three Johnsons or the difference between “pleasure” and “joy.” He frowned, then shook it out of his head.
            “So you’ll be following me?” he said.
            “We will,” said Three Seas in his flat, disdainful tone. Each of these men were taller than Jack, and Three Seas in particular looked down on him. Then he held out his hand. Something small and metallic with a dim green LED flashing light lay in it. “Take this. Put it in the pocket of your jacket.”
            Jack opened his mouth to resist, but that wouldn’t have done any good. So with a sigh he took it and pocketed it. “What is it?”
            “A Mobile Mouse unit,” Three Seas said harshly. “Our brother Vanasmas invented them during his time at Golbez Industries.”
            “He probably stole it. I don’t think---”
            “How dare you!” Three Seas said, and he slapped Jack’s face.
            Jack retaliated by immediately slapping him back, except with a fist instead of an open hand. So more like a punch.
            “Bind him!” boomed Chief Treike and at once Ay and Bee had got hold of Jack and started tying him up with a rope that seemed to have appeared out of thin air.
            Three Seas, recovering, rubbed his jaw and refocused his eyes. His gaze came to rest on Jack, who met it with his own fierce stare. Three Seas’s face showed nothing at first. But then he gave a tiny little nod to Jack and just the hint of a wry grin. Jack smirked in turn and Three Seas’s hint of a grin turned into a full-on giveaway.
            And once again, violence nets me a friend, Jack thought. Or at the very least, respect.
            “I hereby declare that you shall lead the three Johnsons on your journey while in this state of confinement!” Chief Treike hereby declared. “That is your punishment, herp derp.”
            “I thought they didn’t know English,” Jack said as they finished tying him up.
            “We tell our people to bind up other people a lot,” Treike explained. “They understand by now. If not the words, then the tone at least. Hum bum. Spreckle sparkly.”
            “As I was saying,” Three Seas said. “A Mobile Mouse unit. It uses the great magics of outer space to pinpoint your location for us. Others like it have called it a Geepeus. Perhaps you’ve heard of them.”
            Jack stopped and stared.
            “You use satellite technology and telegrams simultaneously? That’s impressive.”
            “We think so,” said Three Seas with a bit of a self-satisfied and completely oblivious smile. “But Chief...aren’t you going to give him the other...item?”

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Chief Treike said, catching Three Seas’s eye and sharing a malevolent look. He took something out of a pouch that hung from the belt of his grass skirt. This something was also small, but definitely not metallic. Rather, it was purple and flat, the size of a fingernail. “This is a cantaloupe seed from our sacred vine, praise it,” said the chief. “If and when you succeed, do us a favor and take this to the Cardaccians. It’s a symbol of peace and brotherhood---they’ll know what it means. It’s part of our creed. And their creed. They will understand it, and they will honor you for it.” He continued to hold it out for Jack to take, looking impatient. “Well? Aren’t you going to take it?”

            “My hands are tied on this,” Jack said before bursting into laughter. “Good one, eh? But no, seriously, I can’t take it. My hands are tied behind my back.”
            “Oh yes, oh yes, I’m sorry. Here, lovely brown-haired girl. Take our seed and keep it safe. And do not forget to deliver this to the Cardaccians when you’re done!”
            Annie took it quietly and rejoined Jack at his side. She hadn’t said anything or drawn attention to herself this entire scene. Don’t worry, she’s still there. And no, she’s not tied up.
            “Now I have to go prepare the troops...” Chief Treike said as if to himself as he bustled away.
            Jack and Annie followed Ay, Bee, and Three as they marched out from the pavilion, through Johnson World proper, and back into the thick, dark, foreboding jungle.