Grandpa said that the people who died during an encounter with a rolling calf, died because of their fear. The mystic animal would increase its size based on how much fear it smelled on them. He did not consider the animal dangerous, and although he never met one, was always hoping to do so.
Brandon was my best friend since grade school, and we have been trying to trap a rolling calf ever since. We slept in the woods, climbed the mountains, visited the coral reef, and even vacationed on a small island. Yet, the animal was never meant to be found by us.
Last week everything changed. She came into our lives during a calypso festival. We were dancing in the Ring Road alley that had strummed to life with some of the greatest musicians. I was dressed in a full white tunic. black pants with green stripes, and a yellow tie. Brandon wore a similar outfit except that he wore green pants. We were part of the local folklore dancers.
She ran up to us and hid behind me. She stooped low against our feet. She held onto my feet and I felt the hot hair blowing sharply against it. Two men followed her. We could tell that they were armed since they kept one hand pressed against their waistband.
These were not dancers. They wore solid craft shoes with laces, used mostly when touring the mines. They pushed through the crowds and vanished as fast as they appeared. I knelt down and helped my refugee to her feet. The first thing we noticed was how pretty she was. She was a live Barbie escaping from two furious Kens.
We took her to the dressing room which was still buzzing with artists and dancers. Brandon was the detective.
“Well, princess what is your story? Why are you hiding from those men?’
She kept looking at the door as if the men would come crashing through any minute now.
‘I am a thief, and I took their money. They want me dead.’ She had said that too calmly. Neither of us believed.
“We love your nails. They are well-kept. What is your story, young lady?’ Brandon was as frank as they get.
‘How can I trust two weird men like you?’
‘You just held on to my leg. We are your saviors, if you don’t notice” She had a necklace around her neck. My Grandpa belonged to that Club, The Lions Rare. She was a hunter of mystical beasts.
‘Where did you get that necklace, Barbie..’
‘Don’t you ever call me that! You spoiled brat!’
‘Will you tell me your name if I kissed you?’ she looked at me carefully.
“Fonda. Dialee Fonda, this necklace belongs to my dad.’’
‘What do you hunt, Miss Fonda?’
‘What I hunt you guys don’t think they exist.’
“Try me. What did you do?’
Two months ago, Dailee’s father sent her a message. He had successfully trapped a rolling calf. He had called every other day with a piece of the direction to the place where he had hidden the animal. Once she had the full direction, her father asked her to get help with the transportation of the beast.
The two men had been trying to get the information ever since. At first, they offered to buy the rolling calf, but when her Dad refused, they threatened to kidnap her. This was the second attempt.
‘Why don’t you go yourself?’ Brandon inquired. ‘You seem wealthy enough to rent a boat!’
‘I am an engineer, not a sailor. Plus, I do not know who to trust anymore.’
We offered to take her if she would hire us and rent the boat. Although she was reluctant at first, I convinced her with my necklace. We shared our quests with her and soon we were making the boat arrangements. We went to that island, Deer Island, less than a year ago, but found no mystic animals. Plus, it was completely uninhabited. So, when we set sail, we were sure of how easy it would be. Dialee proved to be useful, especially in the kitchen.
That night we managed to find the course and headed for Deer Island. She approached me as I studied the directions that her father sent. It was rather specific yet curious. The lines seemed to crossover. It would appear to go back and forth at one point.
‘Bruce, the vendor, how long have you been selling kisses?’
‘Oh, sorry, I do owe you one, don’t I’, she laughed. ‘I use them to get tongue-tied girls to talk.’
‘How much would you sell that necklace for?’
‘I do not sell my gifts. They are sacred, spiritual,..’
‘Two kisses?’ she laughed again. ‘You are rather sentimental. How about two hundred K?’
I sobered up. She wasn’t kidding.
‘Nay, wouldn’t do it for a million bucks.’
‘Mind if I hold it? Just take a look at it.’
‘Sure. It will cost you a few kisses, though.’ I handed her the necklace.
‘Notice these beads, kisser, do you know what they are made of?’
‘Nope, Grandpa said that they were invaluable. What do you say.’
‘I agree with him. They are made from Titanium. They are worth a fortune on the Nordic market’.
The Nordic Market? We also searched for that place but never found it.
‘You do like the mystic, first the rolling calf and now the Nordic Market….’
‘I have been there. But why don’t you leave the map for a while? There is something that I must show you.’
I folded the map and placed it inside my diary, then followed. We went towards the engine room then she opened a small hatch beside it. A secret room. How did she know?
‘Come on, you will like this surprise.’
There was a staircase that led below. The room was foul but was well-ventilated. There were two cages, one of them was covered and the other was still open.
‘Well. Bruce, do you care to enter calmly, or should I force you?’
She pulled the cloth off the other cage where Brandon was chained against the bar. There was blood on the left side of his mouth and there was a small cut above his eyes.
‘All this for a necklace?’
‘Just get in. I like you, so don’t push me to be unkind.’ I entered voluntarily. And she did not even bother to chain my hands or revise my pockets.
‘All this was a trap; I don’t believe you. There is no rolling calf?’
‘No, Bruce. Just the stones. And by the way, this is the Nordic Market. I will be back after the trade.’
Brandon was still unconscious. She probably chained him to avoid him falling on his face and dying. I was more concerned about the Nordic Market. After the Vikings disappeared, a cultist, Rhajiv Nhia, continued offering sacrifices to Odin, the most popular Norse god. When he was unable to find human sacrifice, he created the market to buy human hearts or better, live humans. Nhia was captured and burnt alive during a witch hunt orchestrated by the local church. Nonetheless, the market continued.
Was she part of this sect? Would she sell us or remove our organs? Whatever she planned to do, we had to escape quickly. I tried to wake up Brandon, but it was futile. He was out cold. Maybe with water. I removed my belt and then created a screwdriver from the buckle. Kidnappers hardly ever notice this. And we both wore these as part of our security measures. I tested the lock, but to my surprise, it was opened.
Was she that careless, or did she leave it open as part of a sinister plan? I moved out and opened the other cage door. It bore a small padlock and I easily opened it. However, as much as I tried, Brandon would not wake up. His pulse was steady and his breath regular. I needed help. My cell phone was in the cockpit and so was my diary. I propped Brandon against the wall, covered him, and placed a blanket below his head.
The door at the head of the stairs was ajar. It was almost twilight and the last quarter of the sun was lowering slowly into the horizon. A small oil boat moved against the reef and formed a shadow of red and gray in the water.
The deck was empty. Dailee was nowhere to be found. I called for help from the Coast Guard and read them my direction. I ran back to the hidden room, bringing the first aid hit and water with me. I paused in the engine room and flicked the lights on, hooked the flashlight onto my belt then continued down below.
The room only had a roof lamp, but it shone brightly.
‘Brandon, Barndon…’ The room was bare except for the two cages. The blanket was still where I laid his head, the other was tossed aside. Where did he go? Tons of ideas crossed my mind. And the worst could have happened.
Did he wake up and tried to fight with her again?
Where would they have taken him? There must be another door. I searched for it but found no other portal. I was going insane. The coast guard honked twice as they came closer. I tried to convince them that I was telling the truth, but they took me on board anyway. They towed the boat back to the lighthouse.
The captain listened to my story. He asked one of the clerks to bring the Mystic file. He pointed out that there were five other similar cases. Men who reportedly lost a Lions Rare necklace after rescuing a beautiful girl, or a helpless traveler.
They told the same story. A rolling calf was captured and they needed logistical help to bring it home. The hunters of these mystical beasts quickly believed the stories and one by one fell victim. None of the victims knew what the value of the necklace was. Each case had a sketch of the villain. I recognized the first three as Dreilee, the fourth and fifth villains were unmistakably the same person. Brandon.
The Captain called out to the nearby boats to search every vessel that came within range. Nonetheless, this is the sea. It is vast and has no frontiers. Anyone could easily pass by. And so did they.
I felt hurt that my best friend would have perpetrated such a cruel plot and robbed his lifetime buddy. However, they lost this time.
Grandpa had given me two necklaces. One of them, the genuine, he asked me to rename it and keep it in the same family vault. This one I will pass to my son if he chooses to become a Loins Rare member.
The second necklace was my lifetime companion wherever I would go. It had no economic value. It was made from glass, not Titanium.
Someday soon the law will catch up with my friends, for now, I will keep searching for my beast.
