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“At first I thought I was hallucinating, and then after awhile thought maybe this was the afterlife, though it sure wasn’t any afterlife I’d ever heard about.” He takes the cup in his hand and takes several more drinks.

James can see he’s looking to him for a response, but he’s not sure what kind to give him. That creature was definitely Igor, of that can be no doubt. But why doesn’t Dave have an understanding of the language like he did? Could it have been because he ran away from Igor? Hard to say for sure.

“I experienced the same thing when I went through the door to the interview,” he tells him. “The creature you met is an agent of a god in this world, he’s really not all that bad.” After taking a drink himself, he asks, “Then what happened?”

“What happened?” parrots Dave. “I ran and ran and ran hoping to find a way home. I eventually came to the edge of the forest and saw several people riding horses, as well as one man leading a team of horses pulling a covered wagon. Running out of the forest, I yelled to them and flagged them down.” A haunted look comes over him as his voice softens, “I thought they would help me. I was wrong.” Tears begin welling up in his eyes and a sob begins to escape him.

“They weren’t interested in helping me,” he says, eyes looking toward the floor. “When I came close to them, they began talking to me in a language I never heard before. I tried to tell them I was an American and that I spoke English, but they didn’t understand.”

James can see his emotions getting the better of him and says, “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me anymore.”

“I need to,” he says as a tear runs down his cheek. “I was later to find out they were slavers, on a raid to take people so they could sell them at a slave market.”

“When one of them dismounted and drew a wicked looking knife, I knew I was in trouble and tried to get out of there. I turned and ran but was soon overtaken. I fought with them, but they overpowered me. They tied my hands behind my back and with their knives, cut my clothes off of me. Stripped naked, they hauled me up into the back of the wagon. Two other people were there, one was a young girl. I…” Overcome with emotion, he stops his narrative.

James lays a hand on his shoulder and says, “I understand. I’ve run across these slavers before and I know the kind of people they are. You needn’t tell me anymore than you feel you must.”

Dave brings his eyes up off the floor and gazes into his friend’s as a smile comes to him. “That first night was the worse. The things they did to that poor girl…” a shiver runs through him. “Anyway, we traveled for days. I gradually began to be able to understand basic commands. They captured several more, and when they had ten of us tied and naked in the back of the wagon, they made for the slave market.”

“We traveled for days and that covered wagon got extremely hot while the sun was beating down upon it. When we at last came to the slave market, we were separated and ushered into pens. I was there for three days before it became my turn up on the slave block.”

“My first master was none too pleased to discover I didn’t speak the language and beat me often. Within days, he sold me to another who treated me even worse. I longed to die, just to end the humiliation and agony which had become my life. But I simply couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

Lifting up his tunic, he shows James the patchwork of scars, the result of being beaten and tortured by his former owners. From neck to waist, he can see where his friend had been cut, burned and who knows what. Dave twists and he can see his back is even worse. “I’m sorry,” is all he can think to say at the horror his friend must have endured.

Replacing his tunic, he continues, “Finally I was sold to an inn and worked there until I heard him play ‘Home on the Range’. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing at first. Then something came over me and I had to reach him, to see if he was real. In the back of my mind I knew I would be facing a beating, but I couldn’t stop myself. I