Aloha, Lugosi! The Gretch Bayonne Action Adventure Series Book #4 Page 11

  “Hello?” I called out. “Is anybody home?” No one answered so we walked closer to the house.

  “What should we do now?” Crumby asked.

  I knocked on the door but there was no answer. So I went in.

  “You shouldn’t do that!” Crumby yelled. “Come out of there!”

  I only stayed inside the front door for a few seconds. But it was long enough to get a load of what was there. The place had a bed, a chair, a desk, what looked like a countertop for a sink, and shelves on each wall from the floor to the ceiling. And on those shelves were hundreds if not thousands of small model airplanes. It was very impressive to say the least.

  I backed out of the house and shut the door.

  “What did you find?” Crumby asked.

  Before I could answer, an old man rounded the side of the house and scared the hell out of both of us.

  “Airplanes,” the old man said. “I like to make model airplanes.”

  “I didn’t mean to invade your privacy,” I said. “But we are looking for a man.”

  “Well, he is not here,” the old man replied. “I don’t get many visitors. Please, come join me at the pit.”

  He seemed friendly enough, with a thick German accent. It was hard to tell how old he was, but he had definitely seen better days.

  “I could use a rest before we head back down,” I said. “I nearly got killed in the quicksand on the way up.”

  “Oh that,” the old man said smiling. “I guess I should make the sign bigger.”

  We sat on each side of him, wondering what his story was.

  “Who is this man you are looking for?” he asked.

  “Bela Lugosi,” I replied. “He is my friend.”

  “Is he German?” the old man asked.

  “Hungarian,” I replied. “An actor. He is quite famous in America.”

  “I am sorry,” he answered. “But I haven’t seen any Hungarian actors. Just German Navy men.”

  Crumby and I looked at each other knowingly but didn’t ask any questions. I figured we should just let the old man do the talking for now.

  “It’s been fifteen years since I’ve seen a German U-boat,” the old man said. “Now suddenly, I see them quite frequently. So you like my model airplanes?”

  “They are fantastic,” I replied. “But about these U-boats, have you talked to the men piloting them?”

  “Come,” the old man said, standing up. “Let me show you something.”

  We stood up and followed him past the house. I thought he was going to take us inside, but instead he began going down the hill on the opposite side of the island where our boat was moored. I felt uneasy about following this strange old German man. God knows where he was leading us. I could only hope that it wasn’t into the hands of the damned Nazis.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  The old man began telling us stories on our way down the path. Apparently he had been a German pilot during the World War. And he must have been a damned good one, too. After all, he was still alive.

  I couldn’t quite follow everything the old man was saying. He was very animated and flung his arms about, as if he were flying a plane, recounting tales of dog fights in the sky.

  When we reached the bottom of the path, he pointed to a group of tall trees to our left.

  “If I show you,” he said, “you must promise not to tell anyone.”

  “Okay,” I replied. “I promise.”

  “And you?” he asked Crumby.

  “I promise,” the captain answered.

  We followed him into the thick group of trees and quickly came to a clearing. There in the middle was an old seaplane that was painted in red. It bore the German Iron Cross on her wings and tail.

  “This was one of my fighters,” the old man explained. “I had her modified to take off and land in the ocean so I could retire here peacefully.”

  The airplane was parked under a giant wooden canopy that actually had trees growing on top of it. He could get the damned thing in and out without it being seen by boats or other airplanes.

  “You still fly this thing?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he replied. “Quite frequently. I fly to Honolulu to get gasoline and supplies. But only at night, when I am less likely to be seen.”

  “And when you pull up to a filling station in this thing,” I said, “no one asks any questions?”

  “I use the upper dock on the northeastern side,” he replied. “I have friends there.”

  “Why all the secrecy?” Crumby asked.

  “I am a very private person,” the old man said. “And I made many enemies during the war.”

  “Son of a bitch!” I yelled. “Damn it!”

  “What is wrong?” the old man asked. “Can you not keep my secret?”

  “No,” I replied. “I mean, yes, I can keep your secret. But it just dawned on me that I should have hired a seaplane to go looking for Lugosi! It would have been a hell of a lot faster!”

  “A plane would pass over the islands too quickly,” Crumby said. “You couldn’t see much. It would be easy to miss something.”

  “You should have hired a zeppelin,” the old man said. “For surveillance, that is the vessel you need!”

  “How long did you say you’ve been on this island?” I asked.

  “Fifteen years,” the old man replied.

  “And you don’t read newspapers or listen to the radio, do you?” I asked.

  “I know the Germans lost the war,” he replied. “And that is all I need to know.”

  “Well, let’s just say Zeppelins and I don’t get along too well,” I replied.

  “They were just bombing machines,” the old man said. “Surveillance and bombing. That is all they were good for. And they took practically no piloting skills to fly. I never cared for them either, sir.”

  The old man was certainly an interesting character. I respected him almost immediately. And when I found out he dropped out of the war to go into hiding and remained that way for fifteen years, well, I couldn’t have admired him more. But I had a man to find, and he sure as hell wasn’t on this island.

  “You want to join our mission?” I asked. “You could fly ahead of us and report your findings. It would save us a lot of time. And I would pay you handsomely, of course.”

  The old man laughed and shook his head “no.”

  “I made enough money from my book to retire on,” he replied. “And here, you don’t need much money anyway.”

  “Your book?” I asked. “You’re an author?”

  “I am an aviator,” he replied. “But I made more money from the book.”

  “What book is that?” I asked.

  “It’s not important anymore,” he answered.

  “Bay here is a writer too,” Crumby chimed in. “He wrote the famous book on the Graf incident.”

  “The Graf?” the old man replied. “They made another airship?”

  “Like you said,” I replied, “it’s not important anymore. Oh sure, I could tell you the story, but you wouldn’t be interested.”

  “You are probably correct,” he answered. “I am retired. All I want to do is make my little model airplanes and live in peace.”

  The old man led us back to the beach where we’d left our dinghy. His shortcut around the island saved us a hell of a lot of time and energy.

  “One last question before we go,” I said, shaking his hand.

  “Yes?” he asked.

  “Have you ever heard of Adolph Hitler?” I asked.

  “No,” the old man replied. “Is he another actor?”

  “You could say that,” I replied.

  As we rowed towards the Eclipse, Crumby suddenly turned very serious.

  “Do you realize who that man was?” he asked.

  “An old German pilot,” I replied.

  “Not just a pilot!” the captain exclaimed. “That was Manfred Richthofen!”

  “Who the hell is that?” I asked.

  “The Red Baron!” Crumby yelled.
“We just met the most infamous fighter pilot in the world! He was supposedly shot down in 1918!”

  “You’re mad,” I said. “That couldn’t have been him!”

  “I wasn’t sure at first,” Crumby replied. “I thought I recognized him. I’ve seen photos. But that plane he has, his stories! And the fact that he said he wrote a book! Richthofen wrote an autobiography, Bay! I am telling you, that was him!”

  As it turned out, The Red Baron was one of the nicest men I’d ever met.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Scarecrows were scattered all across the beach. There must have been fifteen of them. It was a damned strange sight, but we had to investigate.

  “I don’t see any real people,” Speck said. “Just the scarecrows. And there are more up on top of the hill.”

  We figured it could be a farm of some sort. But having been on some dozen islands so far, I was pretty sure a scarecrow would not keep birds from going there. No, this seemed to be a warning to keep humans away. It sure as hell scared me.

  “Barber, load the Winchesters,” the captain said. “This time you and Sharkey are going with us.”

  “If this is a trap,” I replied, “we don’t all want to be there. We may need them to get us out of hot water later. I say we go and they can follow up if we don’t come back in a reasonable amount of time.”

  “What is a reasonable amount of time?” Barber asked.

  I didn’t have an answer for that. I didn’t want to go at all. The scarecrows looked creepy as hell. The whole thing didn’t seem right. But I couldn’t just pass by. Lugosi could be on that island.

  “The island is not that big,” Speck said. “Unless you run into trouble, you should be able to cover it by foot in less than two hours.”

  “I have an idea that may save us some trouble,” Barber said.

  “And what would that be?” I asked.

  “Let’s lob a few cannon balls on the beach and see if we can flush anything out,” he replied.

  “That’s the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard,” the captain replied.

  “I don’t know,” Speck said. “If there is anyone there, it would get their attention.”

  It made sense to me in an odd way. If anyone was laying in wait, it might shake them up and bring them out in the open.

  “What do you think, Speck?” I asked.

  The lookout didn’t answer. He had disappeared back up to the crow’s nest.

  “I just don’t think it is a wise move to fire on an island without knowing who is there,” the captain said. “Have you all gone mad?”

  “I am not proposing we target the wooded areas,” Barber said. “Just the beach where the scarecrows are. If there are people in hiding, I am certain they will come out to where we can see them. Then we will know who we are dealing with.”

  “Barber has a valid point,” I replied.

  “It’s your charter,” Crumby said. “Move the other cannon. If we’re going to do this right, we have to fire rapidly.”

  Barber and Sharkey shot rounds of cannon balls onto the beach while Speck kept watch from the crow’s nest. I lost track of how many rounds they’d shot. But all the damned scarecrows were gone by the time they were done. And Speck still didn’t see any signs of life in the green lushes of the island.

  “I don’t think anyone is there,” Barber said.

  “If they are,” Sharkey said, “we scared the hell out of them and they are hiding.”

  Hiwanda had been sitting back silently the whole time. Finally, she spoke up.

  “Someone is there,” she said. “I can feel their spirit.”

  “Is it good or bad?” I asked.

  “It is bad,” she replied. “Do not go on that island!”

  That was all I needed to hear. I’d come to trust Hiwanda’s instincts. I was ready to move on to the next island. Then suddenly, Speck came down from the crow’s nest with a startling observation.

  “There are men there!” he yelled. “On top of the hill!”

  “How many?” Crumby asked.

  “Three!” he replied. “And they are coming down to the beach now!”

  “What did they look like?” I asked.

  “I couldn’t tell!” he replied, handing me the binoculars. “Look for yourself! They should be visible soon!”

  I focused the binoculars on the beach, and saw the strangest thing. It wasn’t three men. It was just one. But he had some sort of rod going across his shoulders. On each side of him was a scarecrow.

  “That’s not three men,” I said. “It’s just one, trying to appear to be three!”

  The bizarre figure walked all the way down to the beach. He seemed to be surveying the damage of the scarecrows we’d just destroyed. Then he raised both of his hands and waved to us.

  “We have to go get him,” I said. “He is obviously stranded.”

  “Sharkey,” the captain said. “Get in the dinghy. Bring him back fast. We have water to cover.”

  It seemed Barber’s plan wasn’t such a bad one after all. God knows how long this poor man had been stuck on this island. He probably fashioned the scarecrows in an attempt to be rescued. And in the end, it worked. I was just glad I didn’t have to go there. All we had to do now was wait for Sharkey to retrieve Scarecrow Man.

  Chapter Forty

  I decided to go with Sharkey at the last minute. Scarecrow Man had disappeared back into the woods. It seemed an odd thing to do for a man who wanted to be rescued.

  “We should just leave the bugger here!” Sharkey said as we rowed towards the beach.

  “You’re probably right,” I replied. “But you never know. Maybe Lugosi is on that island.”

  The first thing we noticed chilled us both to the bones. There was blood all over the scarecrows lying about on the beach.

  “What the hell?” Sharkey said. “Why do you suppose he did that?”

  “Did what?” I asked, as we walked passed the bloody remains.

  “Put blood all over the scarecrows!” he replied. “I’ve never heard of anyone doing that!”

  We yelled out “hello?” as we made our way up a steep hill. About half way up, we got tired of yelling. It was all we could do just to hike up.

  “I say we just take a quick look around,” I told Sharkey. “If he isn’t at the top of this hill, we’ll turn around and go back.”

  We found a primitive camp with a small sleeping chamber made of bamboo and leaves. There were small bundles of wood lying all around that were tied together with some sort of twine.

  “This is kind of creepy,” I said.

  “Look over here!” Sharkey called out.

  He had found a small trunk behind the sleeping chamber. It creaked as I cautiously opened the lid. The damn thing was full of leather bound copies of the King Jame’s version of The Bible.

  “Looks like he is a man of religion,” I said as I let the lid go. It slammed down pretty hard, making a loud noise.

  “Well,” I said. “He’s not here. Lugosi isn’t here, so let’s get back to the boat!”

  “I see you found the way,” a man’s voice rang out from behind us.

  We spun around to witness Scarecrow Man about fifteen feet from us. He was dragging some long bamboo poles behind him. He dropped them on the ground and walked towards us. We raised our rifles, not sure what to make of this character.

  “We saw you from our ship,” I explained. “We’ve come to save you.”

  He let out a hearty laugh and sat down in front of his.

  “You do not need to save me,” he replied. “It is I who should be saving you!”

  “Well unless you have a seaplane hidden here somewhere,” I said, “I doubt you can help us. But if you want to get off of this island, you are free to come with us. But you have to do it now.”

  Scarecrow Man began lashing the poles together with twine.

  “What are you making?” Sharkey asked.

  “Scarecrows,” he replied. “Would you care for a drink? he asked, holding up a ca
nteen. “I found the best fresh water pond here! And it is wholly water!”

  “No, thank you,” I replied. “We have to go.”

  “What is your hurry?” he asked as he stood a giant cross up on its end. “Stay and help me take these down to the beach. It won’t take long.”

  Starkey grabbed the giant cross, just as it was about to fall over on him.

  “Just let me make one more,” Scarecrow Man said. “Then we can go.”

  “Then you are going with us?” Sharkey asked.

  “Perhaps,” he replied.

  I don’t know how long he’d been stuck by himself on the island, but this man was obviously crazy. No one in their right mind would debate about staying on a tiny island like this. I have no idea what he’d been eating. It would just be a matter of time before he would either starve to death or be killed by the elements.

  Sharkey and I each grabbed a giant cross for Crazy Scarecrow Man and headed down the steep hill. On our way, he started quoting from the Bible. I could only assume they were from the Bible, but I had never heard them before.

  “Samaria shall become desolate; for she hath rebelled against her God: they shall fall by the sword: their infants shall be dashed in pieces, and their women with child shall be ripped up,” he said. “Hosea 13:16 !”

  “When we get to the beach,” I whispered to Sharkey, “drop the cross and run like hell.”

  “Happy shall he be, that taketh and dasheth thy little ones against the stones,” Scarecrow Man announced, laughing. “Psalm 137:9!”

  It dawned on me that we were not just helping Scarecrow Man carry wood down a hill to make more scarecrows. We were in a precession. We were attending our own crucifixion.

  I turned my ahead around far enough to see that he was pointing a large pistol at us. Sharkey and I had our rifles up over our shoulders. I wondered if I could drop the cross, pull the rifle off of my shoulder and shoot him before he could pull the trigger on his damned pistol. The odds didn’t seem to be in my favor, so I kept walking. But we were running out of time.

  “Ye shall utterly destroy all the places, wherein the nations which ye shall possess served their gods, upon the high mountains, and upon the hills, and under every green tree: And ye shall overthrow their altars, and break their pillars, and burn their groves with fire; and ye shall hew down the graven images of their gods, and destroy the names of them out of that place,” he yelled. “Deuteronomy 12:2-3!”