Part 5

“You talk,” Brick finally said, flabbergastedly, when his own speech returned.

“I do indeed,” replied Humphrey.

“Why didn’t you speak before?” asked Brick, leaning back against the trunk of a tree.

“I find one learns more by listening, especially one of my…condition. People tend to let their guard down in the presence of a mute one-eyed hunchback.”

Brick stared at the fire a moment. Then he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a hip flask. He unscrewed the top, took a long drink, and tossed it across the fire to Humphrey, who caught it in the air.

As Humphrey drank, Brick asked him, “So how’d you end up down here? That ain’t no jungle accent.”

“I was born here.” He tossed the flask back to Brick who killed it. “My parents were missionaries. When I was born, many thought they were cursed. As my deformities became more pronounced, the villagers became increasingly hostile toward me. When I was 10, I took up juggling and was subsequently accused of witchcraft. A group of villagers came to our house to take me away. My father, always a man of peace, met them on the steps with a shotgun. He took down a couple, but they overpowered him and killed him. However, his actions bought my mother and I just enough time to escape. We fled to England.”

“Why did you come back?” asked Brick.

“Revenge. But those that killed my father were dead by the time I returned. A sickness had passed through the village and killed many. I suppose it was they who were cursed. I thought about digging up their skeletons and juggling the bones, for some kind of symbolic vengeance, but I decided against it.”

Brick smiled, remembering the skeleton festivals of his youth.

“Soon enough,” continued Humphrey, “I fell in love with a village girl and married her. And now, 13 children later, here I am.”

“You helped me escape,” said Brick. “Will your family be in danger?”

“I do not think so. My wife is a cousin of the chief, and while he is fairly unforgiving to outsiders, he is loyal to his kin. Nevertheless, I will go back to rescue them.”

“As I will go back to rescue the gold.”

“Ahhh, the Gold of Churromatsu.”

“You’ve heard of it. Do you know where it is?” Brick’s eyes lit up.

“No, but I may be able to find it. If you help me get my family out, I will help you find the gold.”

Brick pondered that a moment. “Deal,” he finally responded. “I’m not much for heroics, but I’ll make an exception this time. Now, can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“What did you do while you were in England?”

“Well, when we first arrived-ARGH!” Suddenly, two hands came out of the darkness and pulled a burlap sack over Humphrey’s head and yanked him back. Before Brick could react, the same thing happened to him. His hands were soon zip tied behind his back and someone was holding him from behind. Someone else stepped in front of him.

Brick heard a familiar voice say, “Clarence Brickhausen. Do you know who sent me?”

“Uh…your mama?”

The man chuckled. Then something hard and flat hit Brick square in the face, and the last thing he heard was the crunch of his nose breaking before he lost consciousness.