Chapter I: The River’s Secret

            The area had been in a drought for years.  Everyone knew it and knew the river was getting lower and lower.   “Wonder what secrets we’ll find when it dries up?” the younger generation would tease.  “Probably nothing that any of us want to see,” the old timers responded. 

The little rainfall the area did receive was never enough to raise the level up.  It couldn’t even maintain the level.  Instead, year after year, the water level dropped.  First the difference was noted in inches and then in feet.   

            Despite the lowering water levels, the community carried on with its traditions.  Notably the Civil War reenactment that they were so proud of.  Despite being in the southern tip of a union state the community boasted they were – and had always been – proud unionists just like the rest of the state.  Even though geographically, the community was in a little dip in the state border and the nearest town to the west actually belonged to a confederate state.  It was often an overlooked bit of history that the townsfolk during the Civil War spent most of their money buying supplies in that neighboring confederate state.  In other words, they may have claimed union but their money went to the confederates. But today?  Well, any citizen is always proud to tell you they were always part of the Union, thank you very much.

Old-timer Gudge Riley IV held a seat of honor for as many years as anyone else in the community could remember.  He was old enough that it was just assumed he had always been there because, in fact, he had been for the rest of the population’s lifetime.  It was a well-known and often told story that Gudge’s great-grandfather, Gudge Riley the First, played a major part in saving the Union and as the story was told, and shall we say grown, from generation to generation, he single handedly won the war.  He had tragically been killed after getting a communication to Grant that ultimately saved the day by saving the war.  After that, the Riley family could get away with pretty much anything they wanted in the community.  All because Gudge Riley the First was a hero as far as the local books declared. No one else seems to have a record of it or remembers the details like this little community does.  The lack of wide spread knowledge didn’t deter them any.  They viewed Gudge Riley the First as a near martyr and by extension, their little community, a hero in a ghastly war.

            To sum it up, this community has always been quite proud of its Civil War history.

            It was while preparing the annual celebration that something peculiar happened.  The low river seemingly decided it was time to start sharing some secrets.  Secrets that had been buried and covered in the river.

……………………..

            Horace attempted to wipe the sweat from his brow with his handkerchief.  But his handkerchief was already damp from previous wipes.  The best he could do was to wipe his one lock of hair that was plastered to his forehead from sweat to the side.  That would at least keep the drip from running into his eye.  Instinctively, he tried wiping the back of his neck before remembering it was futile.

            “Hot one, isn’t it?” Gudge IV said with his toothless smile before spitting into a coffee can next to his feet.

            Why is it, Horace thought to himself, old men have a knack for stating the obvious?  It was an election year and a close race for sheriff so he fought the urge to respond what was actually on his mind.  While he doubted Gudge would take the time to actually vote, he did have a big mouth.  From his usual perch in front of the town store he would see – and talk to – every person in town probably. As much as Horace hated pretending niceties, he knew it was essential.  What was worse, he knew Gudge knew it as well.  But the extreme heat had stripped away most of his inhibitions so the best he could do was grunt in agreement with Gudge.

            Gudge laughed heartily for an old man and leaned back in his chair.  The look of a victor if Horace ever saw one.  He shook his head and attempted to ignore Gudge’s smug look. 

            “Ain’t you supposed to be down by the river for the re-enactment prep?” Horace asked Gudge trying to keep the irritation he felt out of his voice.

            “It’s not like I don’t know the story or my part,” Gudge shrugged his shoulders and looked down at the coffee can.

            Horace rolled his eyes and walked past the old man.  Inside the store, there was only mild relief from the heat.  The AC did its best to pump in cool air but it was wearing out.  The best it could do was provide a little air circulation in the small store.  It didn’t really cool it but the circulation provided some semblance of relief.

            Horace walked over to aisle 3 just like he did every day.  He picked up a couple sticks of jerky and then went to pick out his soda.  When he opened the cooler he paused when he felt a sudden burst of actual cool air.  He hesitated and leaned his head in just a little bit.

            “Hey!” Chin Lew the store’s owner yelled at him.  “Let your fridge at home cool you off, don’t use mine,” his broken English made him sound angrier.

            Horace closed the door.  “Sorry,” he mumbled and walked over to the counter.  He said the first thing that came to his mind, “Hot one, isn’t it?” and then rolled his eyes when he realized he had just repeated Gudge.

            “Yes,” Chin said ringing up the jerky and soda.  “Too hot. I think we will all melt away.”

            Horace thought about it and nodded slowly.  He didn’t have an argument.

            Just then his radio started to cackle.  “Sherrif here,” he spoke into the radio.

            “Sir,” he heard.  “You better get down to the river.  You need to come see this.”

            “Copy that,” Horace said and dropped a twenty on the counter. 

            Chin nodded and Horace walked out tearing the jerky open with his teeth.

            “Best go save us,” Gudge mocked as Horace walked by.  “I know I sure feel safe.” 

            Once Gudge was in his car he muttered, “Insufferable old man.”

            He drove past the crowd that was preparing for the annual reenactment and pulled over to a smaller group of people where his deputy was standing and waved at him.  Horace walked over to the bank of the river to join them.  A couple of people including a man wearing a tie and a woman in business attire the local women never wore were talking excitedly and pointing at something in the river.

            Horace followed the direction where they were pointing.  “What is that?” he asked noticing an object in the river.

            “Well sir,” his deputy replied.  “It looks like some kind of…” he squinted at the object… “sub.”

            “A sub?” Horace asked looking around at the group.  “You mean, a submarine in our river?” He looked back at the object and squinted.
             The smaller gentleman that had been talking to the woman in the group turned.  “Or submersible.  We won’t know for sure until we can get a closer look at it.”  His condescending tone of voice cried academia.

            “Are you telling me someone sent some kind of underwater vessel into our river?” Horace asked again.

            “Don’t worry about it, Chief,” the man said patting Horace’s arm.  “By the looks of it, this has been here since before you were on duty.”

            “Today?” Horace asked.

            “Lifetime,” the man said walking back to his car to retrieve supplies.  “Can’t say for definite yet, obviously, but I would guess your river has been hiding some sort of Civil War vessel.”

            Horace looked back at the object in the river. “A what?”

            “That has all the looks of a Civil War sub,” the man hollered back.

Chapter II: Gudge the First’s Final Moments coming September 9