Page 31
Sam sighed. “What about giants? What are the legends about them?”
Rubo’s eyes widened. “They real. Use to be lots. Now not same. But real.”
“How do you know? Have you seen them?”
“No. But many I know have.”
“Isn’t it a little strange to believe in something you’ve never seen? I mean, it’s like ghosts. Lots of people believe in them, but . . .” Sam stopped talking when he saw Rubo’s face.
“Ghosts real.”
Remi took over. “So you think there are really giants in the caves?”
“I don’t go there.” The old man shifted on the log. “Bad spirits in caves. Jap officer do things there. Many ghosts. Angry. And giants. No good in caves.”
Sam exchanged a glance with Remi. Rubo was clearly not a fan of the Japanese or the caves. And he seemed to have exhausted his limited repertoire of stories about the king.
Remi cocked her head and leaned toward Sam. “Did you hear that?”
“No. What?”
Rubo was lost in his thoughts, staring into space.
“I thought I heard an engine. Down the track.”
Sam shook his head. “Not me.” He returned his attention to Rubo. “How well known is the story about the king?”
The old islander shook his head. “Nobody talk about the old days. Just as well.”
A crack of branches sounded from the river, and Remi started. She and Sam peered into the brush but saw nothing. They listened, ears straining for any further sound, but the area was quiet other than the sound of the river rushing past and the occasional flutter of birds overhead. Rubo didn’t seem to notice, and after several minutes they relaxed.
Remi took the lead in asking more questions about the legend of the lost city, but the old man’s responses became even more terse. When Remi took Sam’s hand and stood, he didn’t resist.
“Rubo, thanks so much for taking the time to tell us about the island’s history. We really appreciate it,” she said, her smile lighting up her face.
Rubo studied his feet with a shy expression. “Good to see people. Talk. Long time.”
They retraced their steps to the Xterra and were greeted by a blast of cool air when they opened the doors. The little motor was still chugging along and the AC with it. Remi strapped in and turned to Sam. “What did you make of that?”
“It’s another piece of the puzzle. Makes sense, though. Sounds like a natural disaster destroyed the king’s work and that that was interpreted by the locals as angry gods swatting him like a fly. Also explains the curse. Even if the specifics have been forgotten, legends like that have a way of lingering.”
“Leonid will be pleased to have more to go on than a question mark.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, Leonid’s hard to please. Ever.”
“Leonid is a grumpy guy.”
“It goes with being Russian. All the snow. Or the cold soup.”
Remi eyed the shack. “He really did look like he was a hundred.”
“He’d have to be close to that if he was around during the war and old enough to help the Allies.”
“The bit about the Japanese colonel conducting experiments was more than a little creepy. I can’t believe something like that could happen and wouldn’t be recorded by history.”
“It’s a small island. History tends to miss a lot of the minor events. We more than anyone should know that.”
“Kind of our edge, isn’t it?”
Rubo’s eyes widened. “They real. Use to be lots. Now not same. But real.”
“How do you know? Have you seen them?”
“No. But many I know have.”
“Isn’t it a little strange to believe in something you’ve never seen? I mean, it’s like ghosts. Lots of people believe in them, but . . .” Sam stopped talking when he saw Rubo’s face.
“Ghosts real.”
Remi took over. “So you think there are really giants in the caves?”
“I don’t go there.” The old man shifted on the log. “Bad spirits in caves. Jap officer do things there. Many ghosts. Angry. And giants. No good in caves.”
Sam exchanged a glance with Remi. Rubo was clearly not a fan of the Japanese or the caves. And he seemed to have exhausted his limited repertoire of stories about the king.
Remi cocked her head and leaned toward Sam. “Did you hear that?”
“No. What?”
Rubo was lost in his thoughts, staring into space.
“I thought I heard an engine. Down the track.”
Sam shook his head. “Not me.” He returned his attention to Rubo. “How well known is the story about the king?”
The old islander shook his head. “Nobody talk about the old days. Just as well.”
A crack of branches sounded from the river, and Remi started. She and Sam peered into the brush but saw nothing. They listened, ears straining for any further sound, but the area was quiet other than the sound of the river rushing past and the occasional flutter of birds overhead. Rubo didn’t seem to notice, and after several minutes they relaxed.
Remi took the lead in asking more questions about the legend of the lost city, but the old man’s responses became even more terse. When Remi took Sam’s hand and stood, he didn’t resist.
“Rubo, thanks so much for taking the time to tell us about the island’s history. We really appreciate it,” she said, her smile lighting up her face.
Rubo studied his feet with a shy expression. “Good to see people. Talk. Long time.”
They retraced their steps to the Xterra and were greeted by a blast of cool air when they opened the doors. The little motor was still chugging along and the AC with it. Remi strapped in and turned to Sam. “What did you make of that?”
“It’s another piece of the puzzle. Makes sense, though. Sounds like a natural disaster destroyed the king’s work and that that was interpreted by the locals as angry gods swatting him like a fly. Also explains the curse. Even if the specifics have been forgotten, legends like that have a way of lingering.”
“Leonid will be pleased to have more to go on than a question mark.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, Leonid’s hard to please. Ever.”
“Leonid is a grumpy guy.”
“It goes with being Russian. All the snow. Or the cold soup.”
Remi eyed the shack. “He really did look like he was a hundred.”
“He’d have to be close to that if he was around during the war and old enough to help the Allies.”
“The bit about the Japanese colonel conducting experiments was more than a little creepy. I can’t believe something like that could happen and wouldn’t be recorded by history.”
“It’s a small island. History tends to miss a lot of the minor events. We more than anyone should know that.”
“Kind of our edge, isn’t it?”
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