Today begins the first in a series of prose stories brought to you here at One Prose Place. This story comes from the Phantom Chronicles volume I, a collection of Phantom prose tales written by a litany of great authors. You can pick up your copy at the Moonstone store or wherever great literature is sold.

Look for updates every Monday, Wednesday & Friday. And, once this tale concludes, we'll be bringing you a great yarn from the exploits of the one and only Domino Lady. Stay Tuned!


White Knight was penned by Phantom writer Mike Bullock.

WHITE KNIGHT pt 1

“How could you help them, if they’re all dead?” The soothing tones of Dr. Eichmann’s voice belied the intense stare burning into Jaime Salamy’s flesh. He looked at her as one might gaze at a lab experiment that failed to yield the desired results. His voice echoed ever so imperceptibly in his modest, sterile office. Several certificates hung on the walls, while the only door in the room had the words: “Head of Psychiatric Evaluations, Saint Elizabeth’s” displayed on the beveled glass.

“Okay, let’s start over from the beginning. Tell me again why a woman of your upbringing would join the Peace Corps, Ms. Salamy.” The Doctor laid a file on his desk marked “Pre-Trial Examination”, before sitting down in his brown leather armchair.

“What does my “upbringing” have to do with this?” the annoyance with his questions began to color Jaime’s tone in shades of anger as she fidgeted with the tight curls of her auburn hair, trying unsuccessfully to keep it out of her piercing brown eyes.

The soft edge of his voice momentarily gave way to reveal the seriousness of his concerns, “I’m merely seeking a foundation for your actions, nothing more.”

“Try self-preservation.” She spat her answer at him as if her thin mouth had suddenly filled with poison.

“Please answer the question,” he replied, unfazed by her growing agitation.

“I joined for the same reason any one else joins: I wanted to help people!” Jaime was shocked to find herself nearly yelling the response at him, a shock that evidenced itself as she leaned back sharply as if she was recoiling from her own anger. Jaime quickly raised her hands to cover her tear stained face as she leaned forward on the couch. Her shoulders tightened as she began to rock back and forth, clearly agitated by the Doctor’s invasive queries.

“Then, I’ll repeat my question: How could you help them, if they’re all dead?”

The nearly tangible impact of his words struck Jaime like a bolt of verbal lightning. She dropped her hands and started upright; her face contorted in pain as the memories came flooding back to her.
“Look! I know what I saw!” She blurted out. “It doesn’t surprise me that you think I’m crazy, Hell, I thought I was crazy when it happened.”

“No one thinks you’re crazy, Ms. Salamy,” the Doctor’s words came back as bereft of emotion as if they were uttered by a machine. “We just need to know the truth.”

“I TOLD YOU THE TRUTH!”

“Tell me again.”

“I went there to help the Jumballa tribe, to teach their children to read and help the elders in their dealings with the larger tribes.” As she began to retell her story, the memories of the Jumballa children washed over her, easing some of the tension from her rigid form. She leaned back on the couch, dropped her arms into her lap and began rubbing at some imagined bit of dirt on her right hand.


To Be Continued...

“Their children were so innocent, not like the kids here. They didn’t demand toys or act out for attention. They simply wanted to help their family get along.” A smile broke out on the corner of her mouth, quickly washing some of the anger from her face. “I was amazed at how well behaved they were. Some ‘civilized’ people think they’re savages, but at the end of the day, those people were more gentle and kind-hearted than any one group of people I’ve ever met in a first world nation.”

Jaime paused before continuing, her voice nearly cracking. “Th-this made their predicament all the more heart-breaking. Th-the children were slowly starving to death. An-and they didn’t care. They just wanted to live their lives.”

She broke off for a moment to lift her right hand up and wipe a stillborn tear from her eye. Her bottom lip quivered slightly as she went on.

“At first I couldn’t understand. Why were they starving? Where was all the humanitarian aid sent over by the UN? I had to know what was happening to their food and supplies,” she said, as the veil of anger once again began creeping down her face.

“If everyone here only knew where all their money goes. Too many people think all they have to do is sign a check every month and send it off. But the truth is the majority of the money we send to sponsor those children, the lion’s share of the food, clothing and medicine shipped over there to keep poverty at bay never makes it to the impoverished.”

The Doctor raised his pen from his notepad briefly and placed it against his temple as a quizzical look shrouded his eyes.

“Where does it go then, Ms. Salamy, if not to those in need?”

“The Warlords, they take it all,” her angry tone returned as her eyes tightened and her face constricted in hatred.

“They take everything long before it gets to those poor souls we think we’re saving. Sure, every once in awhile something will make its way through to the poor, or whenever a group of sponsors go over for a visit airs will be put on to hide the truth from the outside world. But, when you’re there for any length of time, they can’t hide it from you.”
“I’d been there nearly four months when I caught my first glimpse of him.”

“Him, who?” inquired the Doctor, as if he were clarifying a food order with an inattentive waitress.

“General Zamuli. I told you about him before.”

“According to our records, the man you refer to as “General Zamuli”, is in fact, one Ackbar Antoli, the UN commander in charge of that region, Ms. Salamy,” while the Doctor’s voice carried no inflection of accusation, his eyes spoke volumes.

To Be Continued...

“Believe his lies all you want!” This sudden outburst from Jaime quickly brought Dr. Eichmann’s pen back to the notepad, where he scrawled furiously for a moment before asking her to continue.

“And when was it you concluded that this “General Zamuli” was in fact leading a double life, Ms. Salamy?”

“It was three weeks ago, today. Gullian, one of the village elders, began avoiding me after I’d questioned him numerous times regarding the food shortages. This unwarranted behavior made me suspicious. So, I started paying closer attention to him. After three days, I realized that every night, as the rest of the village lay down to sleep, he would disappear into the rainforest and return two to three hours later.”

“Another thing I noticed was that of all the elders, only Gullian seemed to be well fed,” her speech slowed a bit to allow this last bit of evidence to sink in.

“On the fourth night, I slipped out of my hut and followed him into the forest. It seemed like we walked forever, but after looking at my watch, I decided we’d gone approximately four or five kilometers, when I noticed a light up ahead.”

“As we drew closer, I could see the light came from torches around an encampment. It was a military encampment. They had jeeps, Hum-Vees and enough guns to kill off the entire country.”

“Gullian walked right in like he owned the place and marched over to a central tent, where a man in UN dress walked out and greeted him.”

“This was Ackbar Antoli, oh excuse me, General Zamuli, I presume?” While Dr. Eichmann’s facial expressions feigned a subdued apathy, his eyes and ears devoured every word and non-verbal tidbit of information provided by Jaime.

“You tell me,” she replied, sarcasm dripping from her words like some bitter syrup. “All I know is he was the leader of that militant group. I don’t care how white his uniform was, his eyes and expression were certainly those of man who doesn’t care about the children he’s killing by starvation, or the mothers and fathers who have to mourn their babies.”

“You seem to want to vilify him at every turn, Ms. Salamy. Why do you think that is?”

“Because HE’S A VILLIAN!” Jaime startled herself with the ferocity of her response. She looked around, as if embarrassed that someone else might have witnessed her outburst, and then sat back down on the couch, noticeably shaken.

“I see…” The Dr.’s response did nothing to soothe her frazzled nerves. “And what brings you to that conclusion?"

“Actions speak louder than words and his words were so damning I’m surprised God didn’t open the heavens and strike him down where he stood...” Jaime paused for a moment before continuing. “Mixed in with all the crates full of guns, bazookas, grenades and bullets were cases and cases of food marked ‘UN Humanitarian Aid’. He had one of his hired thugs break open one of those cases and he and Gullian sat and feasted on some sort of meat for what seemed like hours before the General turned to Gullian and told him he wanted more from the Jumballa.”

“Gullian asked what more there was to give, explained that his people wore rags, lived in straw huts and each family had to make it through the day with what little food he brought them from ‘Zamuli’s overwhelming generosity’,” Jaime’s penchant for sarcasm returned with those final words.

“What was it he asked of Gullian?”

To Be Continued

The strain of what she was remembering tapped a well of tears in Jaime’s eyes, “He told Gullian of another Warlord, one in Uganda who was building himself an empire on the backs of slaves. Slaves he’d abducted as children and indoctrinated into his ‘new world order’.”

“He told Gullian he wanted their kids, he wanted them for slaves he could train to be fanatical fighters for his cause. He wanted to build his own army on the backs of innocent children, just like the other Warlord was doing. At that moment, I found myself coming out from behind my hiding place and marching right up to the General to give him a piece of my mind!” The smoldering anger in Jaime’s eyes left no room for the sarcasm to remain, but it was quickly replaced by a look of horror welling up from memories any sane mind would seek to repress.

“In hindsight, I’m lucky that this wasn’t the last thing I ever did. The General’s men had guns pointed at my head as soon as they noticed me. It was a blur. It all happened so fast,” her voice began trembling from the strain of her recollections. “I-I had no more than stood up and started towards him when I found myself trying to escape their rough hands as they dragged me across the camp by my hair and threw me to the ground at his feet.”

“As I lay there in the dirt, realizing I should have listened to my Father when he told me not to get involved, Zamuli debated over whether or not to make me his concubine, allow his men to ‘take their passions out on me’ or have me killed on the spot. Gullian quickly told him who I was and begged the General to rid the forest of me.”

“I’ll never forget that moment,” her irises went wide as her voice dropped to nearly inaudible levels and she continued in a hushed whisper of someone whose mind cannot grasp the enormity of one’s own memories.

“I looked up at the General and everything seemed to go into slow motion. He drew his pistol and pointed it right at my head. I thought for sure that was the last thing I’d ever see.”

“And then what happened?” Dr. Eichmann’s voice seemed to have no respect for the hushed tones of Jaime’s words, smashing through them like a bulldozer through a mud hut.

“That’s when I saw him.”

“Him who?”

“The Phantom…” Jaime’s voice trailed off into nothingness as her breath reacted to the whirlwind of memories that played in her mind’s theater.

“Your imagined hero? The masked man riding through the jungle on a white horse, come to save you from the evil ‘villain’?” The doctor could have been talking about tongue depressors for all the emotion he allowed his voice to convey.

“He’s not imagined. He’s a jungle legend and a hero to those people… He’s a hero to all people,” the reverence in Jaime’s tone would have been surprising to anyone witnessing this conversation. She spoke of this hero as if he were God himself.

“And what exactly did your ‘White Knight’ do when you first saw him? Shall we assume he saved the Damsel in Distress (you) and put an end to this upstart empire you’ve told me about?” Although trying to remain as clinical and detached as one in his line of work should be, the Doctor’s skepticism was finally beginning to cloud his words like a monsoon rolling over a clear sky. The Prosecutor had told Dr. Eichmann what a monster Jaime was, but he was beginning to draw his own conclusion: she suffered from paranoid delusions.

To Be Continued...

“He wasn’t a ‘White Knight;’ he wore purple. But his horse was white, and one of the most magnificent animals I’ve ever seen,” the roller coaster of Jaime’s emotions now ran from amazement to outright awe as she spoke of her hero and his horse.

“Purple? He wore purple in the jungle? Quite a bold fashion statement, wouldn’t you say?” The Doctor caught himself as his voice began sliding from skeptical to contemptuous. Recovering his composure in an instant, he asked her to continue.

“He burst through the wall of underbrush behind the General and by the time his men sounded a warning, he’d already ridden past, knocked the General to the ground with a well-placed kick and scooped me up before darting back into the forest near my original hiding place.” Her nostrils flared as her knuckles turned white from the force of her grip on the couch cushion she was sitting on.

“Please continue.”

“He set me gently on the ground and told me to remain hidden, then wheeled his magnificent horse around and darted off into the darkness, perpendicular to the camp,” Jaime’s words began piling up on themselves, creating a lingual traffic jam. “I barely had time to take this all in, it happened in a matter of seconds. As he rode off, I turned and looked back at the camp, and saw a dozen of the General’s men charging towards the forest where we’d made our bold exit.”

“So your hero saved you, and then abandoned you in the darkness?” The clinical tone seemed to vie with skepticism for equal reign of the Doctor’s words.

“I thought that as well, but only for a moment. I saw him once again burst from the jungle on the other side of the camp and charge right at the General, who had stood up and was facing towards me,” a brief smile played across her lips as she continued. “I’ve said this a million times in my life, but never truly meant it until now.”

“Said what?”

“He never knew what hit him. The General, that is,” the corners of Jaime’s mouth turned up in an almost devilish smile as her eyes gleamed with the thought of what she was about to say.
“And what hit him?”

“The Phantom,” the conviction of her words made the Doctor recoil ever so imperceptibly in his chair.

“The yelling of Zamuli’s men must have drowned out the hoof beats of the Phantom’s horse, because the General didn’t turn around until seconds before the Phantom reached down and cold cocked him right in the jaw,” Jaime paused for a minute, relishing that memory.

The Doctor laid his pen down and brought the fingertips of each hand together in a peak before leaning forward and uttering his next words.

“That doesn’t explain how everyone died, nor does it shine any light on your alleged innocence, Ms. Salamy. So far, all you’ve done is further the Prosecutor’s case that you are criminally insane.”

To Be Continued...

“Can I finish?” Jaime spat these words at the Doctor as one might scold a belligerent child, “Or are you going to continue to interrupt me?”

The Doctor once again picked up his pen and placed the tip on the paper. “My apologies, by all means, please continue.”

“The General let out a scream (that was extremely un-General like, I must say) when The Phantom hit him,” the momentary anger at the Doctor’s rude behavior was quickly wiped away by the smile involuntarily brought on by her story. “He sounded quite like a little girl; in fact, I would have been embarrassed for him, were I not so happy to seem him fall.”

“The scream brought his men about and they immediately opened fire but none of them seemed to be able to hit The Phantom or his horse; it was as if he were a ghost floating through their camp. He no sooner knocked one man to the ground, then he turned and decked another. Within minutes, the entire camp was ruined from soldier’s gunfire and The Phantom’s actions. Several small blazes burned where random shots had hit torches or ignited jugs of lamp oil placed amongst the crates and boxes.”

“Once he’d taken out the last of the soldiers, he wheeled his horse around and darted back into the jungle, away from my position,” Jaime’s words once again flitted between excitement and awe. “He was magnificent!”

“Magnificent? An entire tribe dies and you say ‘magnificent’?” The Doctor’s clinical guard dropped once again as a bit of incredulity washed over his words.

“I told you already, I’m not done yet!” Her voice gained a sharp edge one might enunciate when talking to a petulant child. “Are you going to let me continue or not?”

“Again, my apologies. Please continue.”

“No sooner had The Phantom disappeared into the darkness, when Gullian (who had fallen to the ground of his own accord, proving to me he was indeed a coward at heart) jumped to his feet and started yelling at the downed soldiers. He ran over to Zamuli and helped him to his feet. Zamuli angrily pushed him away, bent down, picked up his gun and shot Gullian in the chest.”

“It was at that moment that I really began to lose it,” Jaime’s fingers tried, unsuccessfully, to tie themselves into a knot in her lap.

“Most of the soldiers had gotten up by then, bruised and bleeding as they were. Some looked like they might not be able to walk, much less fight, for some time, while others looked angrier than I can ever recall seeing a man become. And the angriest of them all was Zamuli.”

“He ordered his men to find me and The Phantom and bring us back to him, then continue on to the Jumballa village and kill everyone there,” the apparent strength in her voice began to falter as she continued. “He told them the Jumballa had to pay for this outrage. He told them to burn them all alive.”

To Be Continued...

“So, you’re telling me a UN Officer ordered the executions of the Jumballa? A man sworn to protect them murdered them instead?” The Doctor had regained his composure and completely returned to his detached demeanor.

Jaime flashed him an annoyed look for interrupting yet again before she continued. “I stood up and turned to run back to the village when I ran right into him… it was like hitting a brick wall, a very masculine brick wall.”

“This would be your jungle ghost again? This “Phantom” person?”
“Yes. Once again, he scooped me onto his horse and we darted into the forest, heading straight for the Jumballa village. I asked him his name, but he said nothing. We rode through the jungle at breakneck speed, with only the sound of hoof beats and my pounding heart to mark our passing.”

“Within minutes we arrived at the Jumballa village and he spoke for the first time…” Jaime once again let her voice trail off, as if she were floating back in time on a river of memories.

“And what did he say?’

“He told me to wake everyone and get them out of there. Without taking a moment to think, I raced from hut to hut and woke the entire tribe. I told them bad men were coming and we had to flee. As sad as it is, this wasn’t the first time they’d had to abandon their homes in the middle of the night.”

“The Jumballa are something of a nomadic tribe and as such, they had some caves they would occupy in a nearby mountain range from time to time. The Phantom told us to go there immediately but began speaking with one family. As we poured into the jungle as fast as possible, I noticed he and that family were still in the village. I turned and saw them going into each hut and then coming out and going into another hut. They quickly made their way through the village, and then when they were done, he guided his horse and the family into the jungle where I was watching. He gestured in either direction as the father and son ran into the darkness around the perimeter of the village to our left. He then pointed to the right and the wife and both daughters raced that way. He then walked up beside me and held his index finger to his lips before pointing back to the village.”

“My eyes followed his gesture just in time to see Zamuli’s men come into the village across from us. Some of them held torches and went from hut to hut, lighting them on fire while several others stood in front of the hut doors, guns aimed at the doorways, presumably to shoot anyone who came running out. I began to hear Jumballa voices screaming in agony and found myself trying to run into the village to help them. I thought we’d left someone behind. Luckily, The Phantom held me back, and walked me a few meters to the left, where I could see the young boy standing near the back of a burning hut, screaming as if he was burning to death.”

“A few moments later, the Jumballa family stopped their seemingly agonized cries and returned to our side. Together we watched as the last of their village burned to the ground. General Zamuli tossed his head back and laughed and then said the funeral pyre for the Jumballa would be a lesson to all who would oppose him. He ordered his men back into the jungle to search for The Phantom and me.

“And what of the Jumballa?” queried the Doctor.

To Be Continued...

“The Phantom then gave me his ‘Good Mark’ necklace, which he said would protect me and sent us off to the caves. The Jumballa were there, alive and well when I left them,” Jaime’s voice was almost overcome with the exasperation of one who grows tired of telling someone the same thing over and over again.

“And was your mission over when you left?”

“No,” Jaime sighed heavily, releasing pent up exhaustion brought on by a nearly three week long emotional roller coaster.

“I told you, I left them to come back here and tell the UN what Zamuli was doing. To tell someone how the aid isn’t getting to these people. To find help for them, real help,” her slumping shoulders and eyes, now growing increasingly sullen, punctuated her tone of exasperation.

“Yet, you have no proof to back up your fantastical tale. Ackbar Antoli is a highly respected UN officer, appointed by the Secretary of State. The investigators sent to the Jumballa village can find no evidence that anyone is still alive, nor is there any proof anyone inhabited the caves you mentioned. When questioned, Antoli claims it was you who set the fire that killed them after he fought off your sexual advances, and then laid the blame at his feet in an attempt to discredit him for what he did to you. And while his story is far from rock solid, yours is Freudian Psychology 101. Rebuked woman has psychological breakdown that leads her to commit a heinous crime. Her subconscious, unable to deal with what she’s done, creates a delusion, complete with a White Knight who saves her, and in turn alleges misconduct, committed by the man who she feels catalyzed her pain, as the true cause of her crimes. If you at least had this ‘Good Mark’ necklace you told me of earlier, we might have some shred of evidence to validate your claims that this jungle legend is anything more than your tormented mind’s way of contriving some sort of alibi,” Doctor Eichmann stood and took Jaime by the arm, leading her towards the door.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Salamy, but my diagnosis only strengthens the Prosecutor’s case. I’m worried that you’re suffering paranoid delusions and that it may take years to rehabilitate your mind from the trauma you’ve caused yourself and others.”

The Doctor opened the door to his office and motioned for a rather large man in a white uniform to come over to him. “Orderly, please escort Ms. Salamy back to her room. My examination is over.”

“No! It can’t be over, you still don’t believe me!” Jaime pleaded with the Doctor, but when the Orderly’s powerful hand closed on her arm, it was as if all the hope left her body and she submitted as he led her from the room.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Salamy, I’ll recommend to the court that you enter a treatment program here at St. Elizabeth’s to help you find your way back,” Eichmann watched as Jaime was led from the waiting room. He turned and went back into his office, where he sat down at his desk and looked over his notes for several minutes before his secretary buzzed him on the intercom.

“Dr. Eichmann? You have a man here to see you; he says it’s about the Salamy case.”

Eichmann looked at the intercom quizzically before pushing the call button. “Send him in, Angela.”

The door to his office swung open and a powerfully built man, dressed in a trench coat and top hat entered the office. The man’s eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses, which struck the Doctor as odd on this perpetually overcast day. Without saying a word, the man walked over to Eichmann’s desk and pulled one hand from the pocket of his trench coat. He set something round and shiny down on the Doctor’s notes, along with a manila envelope. A silver chain was attached to the shining object.

“Please see that Ms. Salamy gets this, she left it near the caves. And you might want to take a look inside the envelope as well.”

The Doctor stared at the man, speechless, as he walked out of the office and closed the door behind himself. Once the door shut, the Doctor reached for the object. The chain was roughly twenty inches long and held a circular, silver medallion on it. As he held the necklace aloft, the medallion rotated slightly, drawing its face into view for the Doctor. On that face was a symbol of four intersecting “P”s, surrounded by an unbroken circle. It was exactly as Jaime had described it.

The Doctor set the necklace down and picked up the envelope. From it, he withdrew several photographs. Within seconds, he extended his other hand, depressing the call button on his intercom.

“Angela? Get the Prosecutor on the phone. Tell him I may have some evidence that might shed a new light on Antoli’s testimony…”

After pausing and contemplating the necklace, as it stared up at him from the desk, he once again hit the intercom button.

“And Angela, have Ms. Salamy brought back up here, I have a few more questions for her.”

The End