Part 1

The hunchback remained perfectly still. Brick was impressed. The chief had assigned this little man to be both guide and servant while Brick was a guest in their village. Thus far, he had not uttered a single word. His was a nice hunch though-nearly 90 degrees. It didn’t seem to bother him or cause him any discomfort. Nor did his rather deformed face. He was born with only his right eye, and his face pulled to the left a bit so that the eye was closer to the middle, giving him the appearance of a Cyclops. Brick had been calling him Cyback. Or Hunchclops. He hadn’t decided which he preferred. But now was not the time for name choosing. Now was the time to bring down an elephant.

*******

Brick had come to the jungle only a few weeks ago, spending the last of his money to get here. All in the hopes of finding gold. The legends, the local rumors, the Discovery Channel specials; they all pointed to this place. He had been making his way in the “town” since then, doing odd jobs to survive, trying to find clues as to where the treasure might be hidden. One night, as luck would have it, he was playing dominoes in the local bar, drunk on soju, and started bragging about his elephant gun. Apparently, someone was listening. That night he passed out under the table but was awoken the next morning by a huge man holding a gold coin in front of his face. The giant didn’t speak much English, but told him to “get elephant gun” and brought him deep into the jungle to meet the village chief.

*******

The chief had played host for a couple days, but now he wanted a demonstration of the elephant gun’s power. Brick didn’t trust the chief at all, what with all his missing teeth, his weird grin, and his several dozen wives. There was a reasonable possibility he would be cannibalized. But he needed that gold, so he had to take the chance.

The jungle here opened up into a kind of field surrounded by lush foliage, with a small watering hole in the middle. The chief and his entourage watched safely from the top of a nearby hill. Even from here, Brick could see the sunlight glinting off the chief’s gold jewelry. He and his guide were camouflaged in some trees by the watering hole watching the herd that had just arrived. Big, grey, and terrifying, these raging monsters drank their brown stagnant water obliviously, never realizing that a human assassin waited patiently in the shadows for one of them to get close enough to kill.

Poised and ready, Brick stood behind Cyback, scanning through the elephant scope, using the hunch as a shooting rest. It worked perfectly; he even smashed out a little groove in the hunch fat to fit the end of the rifle barrel.

Brick preferred to shoot standing when he could. He was never any good at shooting from the prone and his knees were no good for kneeling for too long. 20 years in the Army will do that to your knees.

Well, almost 20 years. First Sergeant Clarence Brickhausen (he would never forgive his parents for naming him Clarence) had been 2 months from retirement when he found out that his son, Jake, wasn’t his son after all. The company commander, Captain Donovan, was the real father, a man he had been close friends with since Ranger School. That unpleasant episode had begun when his wife took him to dinner to give him the news, which he took with quiet dignity. It had ended when he drove a Bradley through the captain’s house.

No one died, which turned out to be a good thing for Brick. They let him off with a dishonorable discharge, forfeiture of retirement pay, demotion to Private, and 3 years at Fort Leavenworth. His wife took everything in the divorce. Except for the elephant gun that his great grandfather (whom Brick was named after) stole from Teddy Roosevelt. He had left it with his cousin for safe keeping.

Six years later, his ex-wife lived in a mansion with the ex-kid and soon-to-be General Donovan, and Brick was broke, in the middle of the jungle, about to shoot an elephant off a hunchback’s back.

Brick wasn’t exactly an old man, but he felt old. He’d be 44 pretty soon, though he didn’t expect much of a birthday party. Somehow he still had a full head of hair under his raggedy old desert cap, though by the time he was 30 it had gone mostly grey. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. He hadn’t shaved since he got here, so he had a decent beard going. It at least had some brown mixed in with the grey, a good match for his weathered face. Dark sunglasses covered his tired eyes. Standing just over 6 feet, he was still in decent shape for his age-not by choice, but because between the Army, prison, and the jobs he managed to get since he’d gotten out, he didn’t have much time for sitting around.

There would be plenty of time to sit around soon enough though. When he was rich, he would buy a huge boat and build a giant house right on the deck. He’d live out the rest of his days on the ocean in his mighty house boat. He would just have to kill this elephant right quick, tear out its heart, and then present it to the chief. Then the chief, in sublime gratitude and admiration, would accept him as a brother and share the gold with him.

That, or he would figure out a way to steal it. Either way, he knew he was closer to victory than he had been in a long time, and for once, he was in a good mood.

And the mood just got better. Cyback’s elephant call had finally worked. The biggest bull of the herd was walking right toward them. It was as if the sun had broken through the clouds just to illuminate this providential gift. Brick could almost hear the glory bells jangling throughout the quadrants of heaven.

Brick almost felt sympathy for the poor beast, until he remembered that this elephant’s ancestor, the mammoth, had probably been responsible for the deadly tusking of many a caveman. At this thought his sympathy soon disappeared. Besides, the villagers would feast on this thing for weeks.

As he exhaled he held his breath, aimed right behind the shoulder…and squeezed the trigger. BLAM! He hadn’t fired the rifle for a while, so the kick took him by surprise. But he didn’t have time to think about his shoulder. The elephant had turned at the last second and all he hit was an ear.

The rest of the herd ran through the trees at the sound of the shot. The bull, now missing a chunk of his ear, startled, but then he roared in anger and began to charge. But not at Brick. He went right towards the hill where the chief was sitting.

Everyone in the chief’s camp started screaming and scrambling for safety, but there was no place for them to go. They all tripped over each other in wild terror as the grey death bore down upon them.

Brick immediately started running toward the chief at a different angle; he had to cut the elephant off. His knees were not happy. As he ran, he quickly loaded another round. Somehow he knew that the hunchback was right behind him. He tried to take aim at the elephant as he ran, but he couldn’t get a clear shot. The vines and plants were catching his boots and slowing him down as well.

Pretty soon he realized he wasn’t going to make it. Time for Plan B.

Brick started slowing down and let his guide get ahead of him. Then he yelled, “Hunchie, kneel!” As if he knew exactly what Brick was thinking, the hunchback slid into the dirt like second base and came up in a crouch.

Brick ran right up his back and jumped on the hunch, firmly planting his two feet like an Olympic gymnast. He bounced into the air and flew toward the elephant. It wasn’t pretty but he managed to aim his rifle toward the earth as he sailed. One chance was all he had. He passed over the elephant right as it was about to sow devastation through the chief’s camp. Brick focused and took the shot. This time his aim was dead on-right through the top of the elephant’s head. Brick continued on through the air and landed in the bushes.

The elephant came to a halt right in front of the chief’s camp. Everyone stood stunned, staring at it, waiting. It stumbled a little, and then fell over dead.

Disaster averted, thought Brick, as he stood up and collected himself. He brushed off the leaves and emerged from the bushes triumphantly, expecting an eruption of applause. All he got was stares of hatred. The chief was sobbing. It turns out that when the elephant collapsed, it smashed one of his wives. Brick recognized her too, though he only knew her as #19. Brick wasn’t very good with names.

When the chief looked up and saw him standing there, his face turned from mourning to rage. He swung his arm out violently, pointing with his overgrown yellow fingernail, and yelled something in the language of the village. By the context, Brick thought it was more likely to mean “Seize him!” than “Thank you!” Turns out he was right. Several warriors began to advance on him.

Well, that’s that, thought Brick. He shook his head, sighed, and took off running through the trees.