Toy Soldiers

BY RAY E. LIPINSKI

“The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist.”

Corporal Jesse Wyatt figured he had about two more hours of sunlight before he could escape to freedom.  The forest of Pine Barrens was no more than a hundred yards from the dilapidated farmhouse he had taken refuge two days ago from the Redcoats. He had hoped that salvation was close at hand.  The battle of Monmouth had lasted three long days and taken place over three counties.  Both the Continental and British armies retreated as a no win and both sides were weary and exhausted.  Jesse was in the New Jersey 3rd militia, one of the last regiments to withdraw.  While scouting out the last town, looking for deserters or anything of value left by the British, they were ambushed by a battalion of the Queen’s Rangers.  

This specialized unit was named in honor of Queen Charlotte and was made famous by their reconnaissance and raiding missions. Jesse fought his way through the gang and ended up in a single combat with Captain Gregory Maddox, one of the unit’s highly decorated members.  The two fought, chased, and played cat and mouse with each other until a final encounter led them to a barn where a shoulder wound delivered by Jesses’ bayonet subdued the captain. Two days later, Jesse knew Maddox was waiting for him to reveal himself.  His options were narrow, either the road leading back to the enemy on one side or the Pine Barrens on the other.  There was absolutely no sound or movement from the barn, and Jesse assumed Maddox was either dead or unconscious.  He dug in his pocket and took out two little tin soldiers.  Being the son of a silversmith had come in handy when his wife had given birth to twin boys.  He was always making them things to play with and had made the two soldiers as a reminder of his family back home. Jesse snapped back to reality.  

“Okay, boys, wish me luck.”  

Jesse, tired of waiting, rushed through a broken wall straight towards the forest.  He ran as fast as lighting, a good 50 yards, almost ready to smile with victory in sight when he heard a callous yell from behind, “I got you now you traitorous scum!”

Looking back, Jesse saw Captain Maddox barreling towards him, his musket and sword slashing through the wind only a few feet from him.   Jesse increased his speed, jumping over mounds and ditches and saw a natural clearing leading into the forest.  Maddox slipped on a large rock in front of him, cursing at losing ground on Jesse who was now running into the safety of the forest. 

“I’ll never catch him now,” rumbled Maddox.  

Jesse bolted through the woods, never slowing down, jumping over logs, running down slopes and up hills until he came to a large stream.  He bent down to drink some water, confident that he had lost Maddox.  He had to catch his breath and figure out what his next step would be.  He needed to get his bearings, but he was losing daylight rapidly.  

Wyatt calculated he had about an hour’s worth of sunlight left but the density of the forest made it seem like nightfall.  He suddenly gave a shiver.  Not one to spook easily, he felt there was something about this place, something ethereal.  The eerie quiet surroundings bothered him, the stone-cold silence.  He felt like a thousand eyes were on him but also something ominous, lurking beyond the trees that now seemed like waiting giants ready for battle.  

He heard a twig snap and turned around to see Captain Maddox standing and facing him on the other side of the stream, musket ready to fire.  

“You damn colonial, time to meet your end,” scoured Maddox.  

Wyatt stood his ground and looked straight at Maddox. “Yes, a colonial, with a wife and family and three generations before me on this land, this land that you British bastards govern without justice, taxation without representation, a tax on tea, on stamps, on breathing the wrong way! This is my country, damn you, and I’m through with running!”  

All the while Wyatt was talking, he was gathering rocks on his shoe that was one step in the water of the stream.  He gave a quick kick and a mud filled batch of stones went flying right into the captain’s face.  It was just enough time for Wyatt to lunge at Maddox and knock him on his feet, furiously delivering blow after wild blow.  The anger of a man who had lost everything to tyranny swung at Maddox until he had no more strength left and he toppled to the ground in exhaustion. “I am going to leave you now, redcoat. Follow me no longer, or next we meet, I will kill you; do you understand?” 

Maddox was laying on his side, and just nodded. 

 Wyatt turned the other direction and suddenly heard the most blood curdling sound he had ever heard.  Something like a lion’s roar and a crow screeching, both singing together in a horror-filled cantata. He looked up at the trees from across the stream.  The wind began to blow, and the trees parted and what stepped out was the most horrifying, terrifying sight Wyatt had ever seen.  Standing close to ten feet tall a horse-like creature emerged with a black furlike mane across its back coupled with a grayish torso.  Its head was like that of a goat with long curled horns the color of bone.  It had short arms with six-inch talons on each of its four fingers.  The forked tail had a reddish hue to it, tucked in between two inhuman elongated legs with cloven hooves. It gave another blood curdling roar, its orange saliva dripping on the rocks under its feet like poisoned molasses.  It took one step, stood on its hind legs, and produced what resembled leathery bat wings from its shoulders. 

It looked from side to side at Maddox and Wyatt as Wyatt whispered, “Run!”  

Both men took off in opposite directions.  

Running back into the canopy of the forest, Wyatt could hear the flap of wings and a hideous laugh exclaiming, “Play time, play time!” 

Wyatt had run the length of the stream until it forked in different directions, the culprit being a large, uprooted oak tree resting on its side creating a somewhat tiny island. Wyatt wadded through the stream and hoped the giant roots of the tree would provide a natural camouflage. For what seemed like hours Wyatt sat under the tree trying to rationalize what he had seen.  It couldn’t be true, the old wives tales and legends of the Leeds Devil or the “Mynsing” as his grandmother called it. It couldn’t be real. He heard splashing in the distance and grabbed his bayonet, ready to charge. He saw a flash of red and realized it was Maddox.  

“Redcoat, over here, under the tree.” 

Maddox bent down and gave a sigh of relief at seeing Wyatt and crawled under the safety of the tree with its mangled roots. “What in all of God’s holy realm was that?”  asked Maddox. “I can’t believe it.” 

Wyatt began, “It’s an old legend, a bedtime tale made to scare children.  The story’s been told over a hundred years.  Old Mother Leeds, who was always suspected of being a witch, lived deep in the forest of Pine Barrens far from any village in the area so she could practice her witchcraft and dark magic.  She gave birth to twelve children from four different men suspected to be the riders of the steeds of the Apocalypse.  It was said that the Devil himself fathered the thirteenth.  When it was born, it killed everyone in the house and flew up the chimney only to be seen from time to time. I believe this to be the spawn that seems to be hunting us. They say there is a lake somewhere in this forest that if one may reach it will protect you from this abomination. Others say it’s where the creature lives.”  

“Well, at first dawn’s light, we’ll seek out this lake,” answered Maddox. 

At once there was a lightning strike and it illuminated the whole forest in front of them.  Standing still among the trees observing them was the creature.  It gave an evil grin and replied as it took flight. “Time is nothing, nothing is time, lots of fun we will have.” 

When daylight arrived both men decided to seek out a more formidable shelter, one that might protect them from their come-to- life nightmare.  They followed the stream upriver almost two miles and came across a small outcropping of ridges that contained a small cave just barely large enough to fit two people.  Seeing that Wyatt was already weary, Maddox offered to go and find food.  

“I’ll be back, Corporal Wyatt. Just so you know, if we get out of this, the first thing I’ll do is leave these godforsaken colonies and never return.” 

Maddox spent the rest of the day collecting nuts and berries, lost in thought thinking about his father’s estate in Hampshire with all its pleasantries.  He wished now that he had taken the military convoy on the expedition to India rather than fighting in the colonies where he was stuck now with a traitor and a demon from some old folktale come true. He decided there was enough food with what he had collected to get them through the next day. He started heading back when he heard some loud rustling and strange noises coming from the nearby brush.  He readied his musket and suddenly a wild boar burst through the tall grass running right towards him.  

Just as the boar was about to strike Maddox, the winged creature appeared, grabbed the boar, and ripped it in half, its parts flying in all different directions.  Maddox fell backward and watched the scene before him in horror.  

“What damnable creature sent from Satan are you?” yelled Maddox.  

Licking its claws with remnants of blood dripping from its fanged teeth the creature replied, “My father you speak of. I am what your colonial friend said I am, the Leeds Devil, but my brothers call me Amelios, and you are in my home.”  

“We’ll vacate it immediately and tell no one of your presence,” replied Maddox. 

“It makes no difference. Leave you cannot, as my home is an ever-changing maze of forest. If I welcome you, you will stay,” cackled Amelios. With a fierce flap of his black wings, he was gone in an instant.  

Maddox made his way to the small cave where Wyatt was still sleeping, the tin soldiers clutched tightly in his hand.  The two soldiers decided to find the lake that had also been part of the legend, hoping to find some means of escape.  They walked for what seemed like days through a jungle of forest, putting their politics aside and agreeing that the most important thing was getting out of the forest and away from the beast.  Their exchanges became more familiar as their quarrel of what side was really at fault began to diminish.  Maddox admitted that Parliament’s excessive taxing and trying to govern such a large land mass was indeed folly. Wyatt in turn admitted that he had doubts about the already squabbling Continental Congress being able to sustain itself.  

After two full days of roaming the men came to a sparsely wooded incline that looked like it led up to a levy and both thought surely the lake was on the other side.  Maddox was leading the way and reached the top and screamed.  A few moments later Wyatt was by his side.  

“No, no, this cannot be!” He exclaimed.  

Maddox replied, “It’s not a bloody lake, it’s a swamp, a black bog leading to Hell.”  

In something that looked like the scene described in Dante’s Inferno, a large black lake filled with nothing but desolation lay before them.  Some burnt fallen trees laid by the shoreline and the banks on all sides were littered with various animal bones and partial remains.  Nothing offered any redemption or means of freedom for the soldiers.  

“That’s where it lives, this Amelios,” said Wyatt.  

“Yes,” agreed Maddox.  “We are doomed for eternity in this place.”  

They heard the familiar cackle coming up from the bog, “Time is nothing, nothing is time.”   

In the following days and nights, Maddox and Wyatt did not know how much time had passed.  Amelios never tired of his cat and mouse game.  Sometimes he would chase them all the way to the forest edge, giving them false hope that they had escaped only to claw and fling them back into the forest.  Once Maddox had been gone for days, only to return to his and Wyatt’s cave with horrifying stories of being dragged under the bog where he saw unspeakable things.  Wyatt in turn had stories of being chased by “friends of Amelios.”

Neither believed they would ever escape the cards that fate had dealt them.  And like the creature said, time moved slowly.  

Wyatt woke up with a jolt.  Another nightmare filled sleep began as he was coming home to dinner. Abigail was setting the table; the twins were on the floor playing with their tin soldiers and Captain Maddox was sitting by the fire reading to a newborn nestled under a pink blanket.  Everyone gave him a warm, cheerful greeting when he entered.  Then a knock at the door.  Amelios burst inside, grabbed Wyatt and dragged him out of the cabin back into the wretched forest that had become his home as he kicked and screamed before he woke up.  He went by the stream that was so familiar to him now where he had first met the beast and washed the dirt from his face. 

 It had been close to two weeks since he’d seen Maddox and he feared the worst.  As part of their game Maddox would always get cornered by Amelios but was always allowed to escape.  This time Wyatt had heard a different kind of scream and had not seen Maddox since.  He decided to go to the bog to see if he could find his friend when he heard what he thought was a child’s voice. At first, he thought it was Amelios and his trickery, but he listened more closely and knew it was a human voice.  “Hey, hey, help me, I’m lost, I need help!” Wyatt shouted. He ran along the banks of the stream and up the hill that would take him to the outer part of the forest, which Amelios always blocked.  He ran across the beaten path almost to the clearing that he had run through so long ago.  Right at the edge of the forest was a little boy playing with some kind of white ball with black patches on it.  He was dressed rather oddly, wearing a bright blue and orange color he had never seen before along with the oddest denim type pant.  

Wyatt ran up to the boy and grabbed his shoulders, “Please, please you have to help me, you have to save me, what year is it, what year is it, who won, who won?” Wyatt yelled.  

The boy just stared at Wyatt peculiarly, “It’s 1987 sir, and why are you wearing such strange clothes? You look affright.” 

“Help me, help me, you must help me, I’m with the Continental Army, I’ve been chased by a horrible creature for weeks, days, years, I don’t know anymore, I’m so lost,” cried Wyatt. 

“A horrible creature, sir?  You mean the Jersey Devil, him over there?” remarked the boy, who was pointing behind Wyatt.  

Amelios with a bemused smile on his face walked up almost casually to the boy, sniffed him a few times and then stood on his hind legs and spoke something inaudible.  “You can call me Amelios. I see you have met my friend, Corporal Wyatt.”  Wyatt dropped to his knees and then curled up into a ball, sobbing.  

The little boy looked at the creature in awe. “I’ve read all about you. I knew you were real. Da was just telling us about you at the campfire last night.”  

“Yes, I was listening in the shadows. It was a very good story indeed.  I especially liked the part where I eat chickens whole. Hee, hee, too many feathers and bones,” cackled Amelios.  The boy just looked at Amelios who was smiling down at Wyatt. The soldier’s sobbing had stopped and was now rocking back and forth staring in disbelief.  Without a word, Wyatt handed the boy the two tin soldiers he had been holding onto.   

The silence was broken by yells in the distance. “Jeremy, Jeremy, come on let’s go! We’re packed and ready.”  

“That’s my ma and da. I have to get back to the car. Thanks for the toy soldiers, mister, and nice meeting you Mr. Amelios!”  Little Jeremy turned and ran out of the forest exclaiming, “Can’t wait for the next Show and Tell! Mrs. Anders is going to be so surprised!” 

Wyatt gave a despondent moan as he watched the little boy run out of sight. “Let’s get this over with. I know how you like your play time.”   

Amelios laughed, “Maddox lasted five more decades than I thought he would. It’s not been as fun with just you. Time is nothing, nothing is time. Let’s have one more game, and then you can join Captain Maddox.” Amelios flapped his wings and flew off with the horror filled shrill that Wyatt had been accustomed to. He looked at the setting sun which he knew would be his last and turned back into the forest. “I’m coming home boys, I’ll be there before dinner time, Abigail.” With that, he disappeared into the darkness. 

Jeremy ran to the pavilion where his family had had their picnic lunch.  All of them were already in the minivan with his mother waiting by the sliding door.  “It’s about time, young man, don’t run off like that again.”  

“Sorry, ma, I had the greatest adventure,” Jeremy said excitedly while climbing into the back seat, putting on his seat belt.  As his father exited Barrens State Park and drove to the highway, Jeremy told his family the whole story about Wyatt, the Jersey Devil, and finding the toy soldiers. He knew they didn’t believe him, but he didn’t care.  Looking at the soldiers in his hand, he smiled to himself, turned around and waved at the disappearing sign that read “Welcome to the Colony of New Jersey.”   

“Hey, Jeremy, do you have your oath memorized for the September 3rd Celebration?  You know it’s a big moment for all eight-year-olds in the colonies. It’s not just for tea and crumpets and fireworks,” reminded his father.  

Jeremy knew that the celebration marking the surrender of the Continental Congress at the 1783 Treaty of Paris was a rite of passage to any young British subject. “Yes, da, I’m ready.  I pledge allegiance to the flag of the Reunified Colonies of Great Britain and to her majesty for her great glory, and to the 50 colonies under God, indivisible with honor and justice for all. God save the Queen!” Jeremy exclaimed.  

“That was beautiful, son,” remarked his mother.  “I think we should all sing a song.”  

The family broke into song singing Britannica the Beautiful, happy subjects of the crown and proud that the Union Jack was flying throughout their 50 colonies, from sea to shining sea.