Jim Harrison scratched his chin as he stumbled in on the bus, his right leg buckling slightly. 28 years old, and depending on a clumsy wooden leg, all because of that stupid climbing accident. But, on the bright side, he was still alive, and he was going to the hospital to get a new one fitted instead. As the bus rolled along the city streets, he pulled up the pantleg and examined the wooden leg once more, the snug fit of all the components, assembled before his very eyes seemingly by magic...

The doctor examined the stump that was fairly snugly fit into the makeshift prosthetic, raising an inquiring eyebrow. "Damn, but that has got to be the best work I've seen with this primitive tools... the stump's clean as a whistle, and the stitches are the work of a master. Plus, the cup of the prosthetic here's a piece of craftsmanship I haven't seen equal to for decades. Whoever made this should get a medal. How did this happen, anyway?"

Jim sighed, and began thinking back...

August 22nd, 2000

Jim had been training for ten years with a single goal in mind: to climb the Widowmaker. The mountain sloped up only a mile out of town, and had claimed the lives of many a man in the past, hence the name. But Jim had resolved to tame the mountain, or die in the attempt. How ironic that neither would come around...

The climb had started easily enough, with a slope at about forty degrees up the hillside and plenty of shade. He'd had a weird hunch someone was there with him, but couldn't see or hear anyone. After a while, he passed a small creek, where he calmly refilled his flask before heading on. It had taken him about an hour before he was out of the thicket.

"The Widowmaker. Prepare to meet your bane!" He felt cockier than he ever had, and started the slow climb up the steep mountainside, catching on to bushes and tiny notches in the stone. It was about noon when he decided to camp for a light meal, picking the mouth of a shallow cave to set up a small campfire. He looked over the edge, realizing that if he were to topple over there, it'd be a fall of nearly five hundred feet to a bed of spiky rock formations...

As he stomped out the little campfire after the quick meal, he heard a low growl from the cave. Turning, he found himself facing what seemed to be a moody grizzly, out for blood. Not bothering to think twice, Jim took a quick leap backwards as the bear swiped at him.

The claws tore Jim's leg off, severing it at the knee. Jim saw the edge of the cliff rushing towards him as he fell, saw death rushing to meet him, by fall or by bear... then, a hand grabbed his wrist and yanked him relatively safely back on the cliff, just out of the reach of the grizzly.

"Stay back, kid, I've taken on big guys before!"

Jim blinked at the stranger, a man in a bomber jacket and jeans, ready to wrestle with the largest bear in the world... the grizzly took one swipe, and the youngster grabbed the paw in what resembled a judo grip, or something, and tripped the bear backwards, over the cliffside.

"That took care of him.. how are you holding up, son?" Jim gasped, the pain of the lost leg hitting with full force. "Thought so. Look, I'm gonna apply a tourniquet and stitch this up as best I can... the leg's lost anyway, right?"

Jim nodded weakly, and passed out.

When he came to a little later, the guy in the bomber jacket was kneeling beside him, fitting tiny pegs of wood together, weaving twigs into what resembled a bowl of some sort and attaching the whole thing to a thick branch.

"Coming to already? Great... I just rigged up this for you - a peg leg, of sorts. The bleeding's stopped, but you don't want to lose the compression on the leg, so you will need this. I can't carry you down the slope by myself, either, and you can't stand on just one leg."

Jim stared in awe as this stranger hooked the prosthetic onto the knee stump. Not a perfect fit, but better than one might expect with the materials available. "How… who… where did you learn this?"

The stranger smiled. "I served as a medic in the army… I picked up a few tricks. You're lucky I was here; I had some… unfinished business here."

"Business?"

"An old promise… Never mind that, now, let's get you back to town."

The descent took longer than the climb up; still, Jim was amazed at the easy speed with which he managed to stumble down the cliffside, all without tripping or falling. Getting to the car, the stranger grinned. "With that leg, I better drive… mind if I smoke?" Jim nodded and slumped into the passenger seat, suddenly passing out again.

The next he knew, his father was carrying him from the car and into the house, gently slapping his face. "Jim! Are you alright? What happened? How did you get home?"

Jim looked down, lifting a hand to rub his eyes. "Some stranger in a bomber jacket… he drove me here. Didn't he tell you?"

"Stranger? The car rolled into the driveway two minutes ago, with nobody behind the wheel!"

Jim looked up sharply. "That's a load of bull! He drove me home; he rigged together a wooden leg, and even smoked in the car. Said he was a medic in the army, too…"

Jim's father paled. "I smelled that smoke… but… how did he look? Kinda narrow jaw, beak-like nose and sparkling, green eyes?"

Jim blinked. "Uh… yeah, I guess… you know him?"

"Let's get you to bed first…"

About half an hour later, Jim lay in his bed, looking at the eerily realistic-looking wooden leg standing up against the nightstand. "So, dad, what was the story?"

Jim's father handed over an old photograph. "Third guy from the left… that the one?"

Jim gaped. In the photo was the same man who had saved his life, but dressed up in a military outfit. "That's him, but… he looked JUST the same, no older at all…"

A slow nod. "I kinda thought that… son, I'm gonna tell you a story that took place about 29 years ago… the year was 1971, and I was one of many young American students who had been drafted and sent to 'Nam… you know about that, right?"

"Of course, dad. I aced History, remember?"

"Quite right… anyway, I was assigned to the 332nd; in that platoon, I didn't know anyone, and I was always a sort of outcast. Nobody really gave a damn about me; I was always just the green kid. That is, there was one who actually gave a damn. Thomas Greene, the medic. Tom was a fine fellow, always cheerful despite where we were. Once he managed to make the sarge laugh through a bad bout of dysenteria, even… weirdest cheer-up talent I ever saw, I tell you. Anyway, Tom and I found each other pretty quickly. We used to hang out together, and, eventually, we even became blood brothers, when I needed a transfusion in the field. Now, a part of the story is that shortly after we had shipped out, we'd received letters from our fiancées that they were pregnant. We'd both sworn that after the war, we'd keep an eye on the other's family, no matter what…"

"And you broke that promise?"

"Not at all… Fate, it seems, has a sick sense of humor at times. There was an ambush, and I took a bullet in the shoulder while Tom took a round through the head. My shoulder was almost completely ruined, and I was declared unfit for combat and shipped home. I personally sought out Tom's fiancée and gave her the bad news. She said she already, somehow, knew, and had come to accept that she'd raise her child alone. Peggy felt sorry for her, and invited her to live with us, to help me fulfill my promise. Then came the day when they were to give birth… it was a double tragedy. Peggy survived, but the child she had given birth to didn't… and she was rendered infertile; some sort of crazy infection, apparently. At the same time, Tom's fiancée, Jennifer, died, but her child, a little boy, survived. To make a long story short, Peggy and I adopted the kid… you… and raised you as our own."

Jim sat limply back, staring blankly. "You mean, my life has been a lie?"

"Not at all. As I told you, Tom and I were blood brothers; that makes you at least partly my son, and by law, you are my son, genetics or not."

Jim breathed slowly, then realized someone was standing in the doorway.

"Thanks, Harry. I was hoping you'd tell him someday… I couldn't save his leg, but I could mend the wound and save his life…"

Harry rose from his chair, pale-faced. "Tom? Why…?"

Tom grinned. "You said it yourself. We swore an oath to keep an eye on each others' families, no matter what... I guess I just was better equipped to monitor you than you could me…"

August 25th, 2000

The doctor stared at the wooden leg, seemingly in deep thought. "Well, that's one amazing story… and not much to prove it, either way, except one thing…"

Jim raised a brow. "What's that?"

"This leg. There are parts where the wood seems to have grown into its shape, rather than being forced into form."

"And this means?"

"Well, Tom was my cousin… and I know for certain he always did have an almost druidic power over plants. I believe you. But please, let me keep the leg here? The one you're getting now is much better… and I have nothing else to remember Tom by."

Jim nodded. "Sure thing, doc. Sure thing…"

A little while later, Jim crossed the street, walking steadily and swiftly on the new prosthetic, and the doctor closed the blinds, picking up the wooden leg on the table. His fingers grew in length, wrapping themselves around the wood like some mutant vine. Looking in the mirror, he saw something that resembled the Swamp Thing more than anything staring back, covered in bark and tiny leaves.

"So, Thom'hss, you actually mixed blood with humans… dangerous, and previously unheard of. Posing as a ghost, to boot… naturally, a plant does not depend on a brain; your disguise was commendable. Still, the Grove Matriarch will be interested in this… very, very interested…"

The End

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Promises Unbroken

Copyright © 2001 By Warpmind de InzanE