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The House Divided It is often the case that the smallest event effects the biggest change. This would be the case now, as it would be in the future. -10May1863 Richmond- Provisional President Jefferson Davis walked outside, into the warm spring day. He thought to himself how much Richmond looked like an Army Post instead of the Capital of the Confederacy. He decided that today would be a good day to review the troops. Riding down the street in an open carriage, he waved at the ladies as they passed from store to store, seeking the latest fashions from Paris or London. Passing the Library, he waved to several members of the Confederate Senate. In rapid succession, three shots rang out. The first entered the back of Davis’ neck and exited to an unknown location. The second entered his body just below the shoulder blade and lodged into a rib, after it had punctured a lung and ripped open the heart. The final bullet entered the back of the head at an angle that caused the entire right side of the head to explode off. Eyewitness accounts varied, from reports of a single gunman, to several gunmen located along the route. One eyewitness claimed that the shots came from a mysterious man on a grassy knoll. A grand conspiracy theory developed one of such significance that a feature film would be produced 130 years down the road. The only fact known was that Jefferson Davis was dead and the highly ambitious Vice President, “Little Elleck” Stephens was now the Provisional President of the Confederacy. -22May1863 Vicksburg- Vicksburg would be a key to winning this war. This stronghold was the lynchpin to the South, protecting the Mississippi River from Memphis to New Orleans. He was not a tall man, rather short and stout. The uniform crisp yet covered in dust. The face, partially hidden by a recently trimmed beard was etched with lines from a hard life and the stress of previous battles. His eyes, hiding his thoughts well, darted nervously from left to right, capturing the battlefield in front of him. An unlit cigar shifted in his mouth. Just off to his left, sat his 13-year-old son. Behind him, sat his Aide, more nervous than frightened. The distant firing had grown steadily all day. Reminiscent of a coming storm the distant patter of gunfire rapidly increased to a cacophony of bullets whining overhead, each like an angry hornet seeking revenge for disturbing it’s nest. Leaves, twigs, branches began falling like rain, clipped by the hail of lead. Confederate General Pemberton had not fallen for Grant’s feints. So now, he was throwing his entire force of 40,000 men against Grant’s Army, with devastating effect. General Pemberton originally had considered spreading out his troops to counter each of Grant’s feints, but a last minute communique persuaded him to hold his troops near Vicksburg. General Johnson would attack Grant’s Army from the rear. General Grant held his ground. He could hear the sound of retreating men, the unmistakable sound of men panicking. The General cried out to rally his men, to hold the ground here, with him. The troops began to slow, order returned, rifles re-loaded. They would stay and fight beside this man. A figure, more ghostly than real, shifts under cover. He can see his target. Another quick glance down the barrel of the rifle. A smile spreads across his face. The knowledge that this will be the start of a whole new way of life, for him and for countless others in the South. Eyeing down the barrel he aligns the sights on the distant object, gently squeezing the trigger. A piece of metal strikes a cap that has a small amount of gunpowder in it, creating a spark. The spark ignites the gunpowder that lies trapped behind some wadding and a lead ball. In a burst of explosive gases, a single piece of lead is set into motion. Accelerating down a narrow tube, spinning, bursting from the end, and hurtling across open space. The General’s Aide began to speak “Sir we must...”. The bullet traveled until it came to an abrupt stop deep inside the General’s head. The only mark was a neat hole just above the left eye. General Ulysses S. Grant was dead before his body hit the ground. Through the smoke, a horde of gray appeared; Pemberton’s army was charging. The noise, the smoke, and the death of Grant pushed the Union forces into a full retreat. Vicksburg would not fall into Union hands. ***** -30Jun63 Gettysburg- The table was non-descript, a simple wooden table, battered by the years and the use. In the center lies a map indicating troop positions. Dispatches from his field commanders scattered around the edges. The General, tall, stately and handsome, stood over the table, focusing on the map. His mind drifted back to his home in Virginia, to a simpler time. He had not wanted this war, but he could not sit by and watch his state be attacked. He wished things could have been different, to be home, with his wife, managing the estate. A single rap at the door brought the general back to the present. “Enter” the general replied. The door opened. A young man stepped in and snapped to attention “General Lee, Sir! General Morgan to see you”. He was clean cut and youthful looking despite his apparent age. There was a look in his eyes, hinting of malice. An appearance that gave every indication that he had seen more than any man should ever see; yet he had never worked a day in his life. “I have some information that can help us end this war” the General Morgan stated bluntly. “I thought you were out west?” Replied General Lee suspiciously. "I was, but the information I have is too valuable to trust to just anyone ” General Morgan remarked. “These next few days will determine who wins this war.” He continued, producing a map of the battlefield. A near identical copy of the map that lay on the table. The only difference, in fact, between the two maps, was that this new one listed the Federal positions and troop strength. General Lee studied the new map intently. How could he know this information? He began toying around with ideas on his own troop movements. A smile slowly spread across his face. If this information was correct, he knew now what he had to do. -3am 1July- A rider came storming into camp. He did not slow until he had reached the Headquarters. “Urgent dispatch for General Longstreet” the rider proclaimed excitedly. Moments later a half dressed, obviously drowsy Confederate General Longstreet appeared in front of the rider. The rider snapped a hasty salute and handed the dispatch to the General, saluted again and was gone. In less than an hour the camp was awake, groaning. The orders to strike camp had been given. By 5 am the army was on the move eastward, towards Gettysburg. -8am 1July- A Confederate division under Heth deployed and attacked the Federal army pushing them back to McPherson’s ridge. At this point the federal army held its position tenuously. But eventually the Union Army was pushed back to Culp’s Hill -6pm 1 July- General Longstreet marched his army towards Cemetery Ridge. Not really a ridge at all, more of a crest, some places rising little more than 3 feet above the rest of the ground. His orders were simple enough; get to Cemetery Ridge before the Union, occupy Round Top and Little Round Top. -8pm 1July- General Longstreet’s army sat atop Cemetery Ridge, from his artillery placement on Round Top to his left flank, the Confederate Army stretched for nearly a mile and a half. -6am 2July- At promptly 6 am the Confederate Army opened up with its artillery, all pointed in a small area around Culp’s Hill, the exact location of The Union Army. Union General Hancock ordered a return fire, but the shots were short of their targets. Far down the left flank General Longstreet gave the order to charge. The rebel yell echoed across the field as the entire left flank of the Confederate army ran forward towards the Union lines. The fighting was intense, but brief, in a matter of 15 minutes Hancock’s Union army began a full retreat southeast towards General Meade’s arriving Army. Gunfire erupted all along Cemetery Ridge as the Confederate Army opened up on the retreating Union soldiers. -7am- Union General Gordon Meade’s army stops short of entering the battlefield. A decision that would prove costly to him and his army. Sitting atop Round Top was a second Confederate Artillery division. Training their cannons on the center of Meade's Army, the confederates rain shells and grapeshots on the milling soldiers. The bombardment coupled with the retreating army of Hancock’s induced a general panic, as first one soldier decides he has had enough followed by a division, followed by the remaining army. The Confederates had the Army of the Potomac on the run. General Lee, seizing the moment orders his army to pursue. -3July- Southeast of Gettysburg The sky opened up. The rain came down so hard that troop movements on both sides bogged down in the mud. Both sides set up camp for the night -5 July- New York Realizing that the Confederate Army was on its way to Washington and with no sizeable army to defend it, President Lincoln flees to New York, the remaining government follows a few hours afterwards. -6 July- Washington D. C. By 2 pm the siege of Washington had begun. Lee had completely encircled Fort Washington, defended only by the Army of Washington and the remnants of Meade’s Army of the Potomac. JEB Stuart’s cavalry had successfully cut every rail line leading into the Capital, and with no sizeable army within reach, Washington D.C. was shut down. Thirteen days later with no hope of rescue, Union General Gordon Meade offers his surrender. The war is over and the South is victorious. -1 Aug 1863- Richmond Virginia The United States is altered forever. The Congress of the United States officially ratifies the Treaty of Arlington. The South with its victory announces to the world its independence. Seizing on the victory, Texas one month later announces it’s own independence and annexes the territories of New Mexico and Arizona, renaming itself The Republic of Texas. -Several Weeks Later- New York The article at the bottom of the newspaper told about the untimely death of stage actor John Wilkes Booth. What a shame, I heard he was such a good actor, I really wanted to see him on stage. Mused Abraham Lincoln. ˜˜˜˜˜ -Athens Ohio Monday (present day)- Let me introduce myself; my name is Jeff Johnson; I am 22 and on my way to my graduation. I will be late, as always. I grew up in a small town not far from here. Just about 10 miles from the border of the Confederate States of America. Ever since I can remember I have had the same dream. Some hidden meaning lies inside it. Something that tells me that things are not the way they should be. Maybe this is why I decided to dedicate my life to history. What follows must be unimaginable to you, but let me set it forth as the truth. I am sure you are confused, so let me start at the beginning. It all happened three years ago, when I first met Dr. Bradley Rush.... I sat on the edge of his bed. The sweat still beading on my forehead. It was the same dream, but now it was more ominous. I saw himself dead this time. I looked over at the nightstand; the time glowed green from my clock. 4am. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes as I stumbled from the bedroom to the bathroom. I tried to shake the premonitions from my slumber with a hot shower. I closed my eyes as the hot water ran down my back. Running through the woods. I turned to ward the beast off. It lashed out, I felt it tear into my chest. I fell to the ground, screaming, the beast surrounding me. I opened my eyes, before me was a... I snapped awake. With a cup of coffee in my hand, I sat down to check my e-mail. Scanning the list of recent e-mails: mostly from friends, classmates. What’s this one? Five lines down was an e-mail from US Grant, titled Restore History. It was a simple message only a few lines: I was murdered! Help Me Save the Union! Before the gray beast attacks again. -General U.S. Grant I paled, dropped my coffee, and shut the computer off. I was dreaming, I had to be, no one knew of the gray beast in my dream. I must still be dreaming. I walked back over to the bed and laid down. I closed my.... Running through the woods. Thunder booming. Louder. It was raining hard now. I could feel the breath of the large gray beast, as it lunged for the back of my neck. I turned to ward the beast off... Damn! I am running late again! The first day of class and I am going to be late. I rush into the classroom just as the Professor calls my name. “Here!” I replied. He is a tall man, with graying hair and eyes that tell a long story. “I hope that this will not be an everyday occurrence, Mr. Johnson.” I blush and head to my seat. His eyes, what is it about his eyes. They appear to have seen the world from some ethereal perspective, to hold all the knowledge contained in the world. “We will begin today by discussing what could have been in American Civil War History.” Dr. Rush states. My mind races back to this morning, what could this dream mean? “Mr. Johnson... Mr. Johnson! Can you please tell the class who won the Civil War?” I managed a simple, but embarrassing “Wha?” “Can you tell the class who won the Civil War?” Dr. Rush repeated. “The Civil War?” I asked in astonishment. “Yes! The Civil War!” Dr. Rush demanded. “The Confederate States of America.” I replied. Wow, I hope his tests are this easy. “Are you sure, Mr. Johnson?” Huh “Positive” I asserted. “...And why did the South win?” Dr. Rush shot back. Damn, why is he picking on me? “Because, the Confederate Army had better strategies, more capable Generals. And they brought the fight home to the U.S., captured Washington DC-- and forced a surrender.” I countered. “Well said, straight from a High school textbook no doubt. You obviously have put no thought process into your answer. Those answers are too simple for this class.” He replied. I was thoroughly pissed now. “I....” The bell rang. The debate was over, for now. The autumn leaves drifted down from above his view. The wind must be picking up as evident by the little eddies of swirling red, yellow and oranges. A squirrel darted down the nearby oak, pausing only to make sure that the local human population didn’t get to close to him or his stash of winter food. He clamored over to a fallen acorn, glanced furtively around, assured that no danger was around, picked up the next addition for winter, and begins a rapid gnawing of the outer shell. For him, nothing had changed; this is what he had always done, just like millions of squirrels before him. He stood by the window looking out over the campus, hands clasped behind his back. At age 50, Dr Benjamin Rush, was in better shape than most of his peers. He ran 10 miles daily, rarely drank, and he never smoked, mostly because it was unhealthy, but it was also illegal. In the background the TV was on. “Yet another slave revolt in the Confederate State of Virginia. For more we go to ...” the Anchor announced. This is not the way it should be mused Dr. Rush. “...Back to you Maggie.” The voice coming from the TV. Stated. “Thank you, Greg” the Anchor replied. “The Confederate Government continues its protest against the U.S.’s open border policy for runaway slaves.” The Anchor continued. “In a press release today, Confederate President James Williams issued a strong condemnation against the government of the United States....” A voice recognizable as President Williams spoke. “The continued encouragement by the United States for all slaves to cross the border can no longer....” What’s going on here Dr. Rush ponders. “...be tolerated by the Confederate States of America. We are determined to take whatever means necessary....” A knock at the door brought Dr. Rush out of his reverie. “Come in” He heard the doorknob move and the door rattle. He waited. “Come in” “The damn doors locked.” Dr. Rush turned from the window and walked to the door. “Come in Jeff, sit down” “Is this about the other day in class, Dr. Rush?” I asked. “No, not really, this is more of a -- job interview” “A job interview? I don’t understand Dr Rush” I reply. “Jeff,” Dr Rush paused taking a deep breath. “Sit down -- please.” “You understand history like no one else.” ”That essay I assigned, on what the U.S. would be like if the Union had won the war, you were the only one who answered it accurately.” “I was only speculating....” “No, you know, deep down inside, you know the answers, the real history.” “You accurately described how General Grant won at Vicksburg, became commander of all Union forces and won at Appomattox Court House. Hell! You even accurately described Lincoln’s assassination.” Dr. Rush confirmed “But, Dr Rush, that was all a bunch of ‘what ifs’.” “ No! Jeff, this is the way history should have been.” “But history was tampered with, from someone in the future.” “Time travel?!” I stammered. “Yes! That’s exactly what it is.” “What if I told you that not only are it possible, but you are able to do it.” “I would say I am outta here.” I replied rising from the chair. “Wait!” “Why? You are obviously nuts!” I call from over my shoulder. “Am I?” Dr Rush asks “How many people have you told about your dream?” I stopped dead in my tracks. I could feel the blood drain from my face. My heart skipped a beat “Wha... No one... How?” I stuttered “You told me.” “Shit man! You’re nuts!” “How long do you think you can run from the gray beast in your dreams?” “Gray...” “The one that hunts you down in your dreams.” I rushed out of the office. How the hell could he have known that? I tried to divert my attention away from the conversation with Dr. Rush, the nut, but with every step back to my room, the idea of time travel mixed with my dreams haunted me. I need to get away from here. ˜˜˜˜˜ -10 miles south of Atlanta Georgia present day- The sky had gone from a deep azure blue to a steely gray in a matter of a half-hour. The wind was picking up and in the distant thunder rolled. Across the field of white, the planted bent under the force of the wind, dark shapes bobbed and shuffled among the field. An occasional shout and a few curses could be heard to move faster before the storm comes Peter stared out across the plantation. He offered up a small prayer for his good fortunes, his health, and his wallet. He had nearly lost his entire fortune several years back when his crops failed. Peter wasn’t always a plantation owner. He had graduated from University of Atlanta’s College of Medicine, Magna cum Laude. He had aspired to be like his father, Dr. Peter Bose Sr. But with his father’s failing health, he stepped in and took over the family business. Now with a family of his own, Peter had become a prosperous cotton plantation owner. His son, Robert, now 24 was his slave driver, and a damn good one at that. At 24, Robert Bose had everything, a loving wife, and two adorable sons and stood to inherit his father’s plantation and money. He had learned early on how to be an effective slave driver. The best way to get a slave to work was to let them know who the boss was. He was not above whipping the slaves either. Earlier this year he had whipped a slave who was pregnant because she couldn’t work the fields. It was a shame she had had a miscarriage. Today he was brandishing his whip, the one that every slave was familiar with. He had already used it once and he was spoiling to use it again. These damn slaves weren’t working fast enough. He wanted the cotton to be picked before the storm came. He had known only one thing all his life, how to be a slave. 6 months ago Moses would never have questioned this. But now, things were different. He had learned about a better life, up north, a free life. When Robert Bose had killed his unborn son while whipping Sara, Moses wife, for being unable to work from here pregnancy, Moses snapped. Now for the past 5 months Moses plotted revenge. Each night he would pass on information to other slaves. Information, although more accurately described as tales, of freedom in the north where slaves were rich, frees and ruled society. He knew that most of it was lies, but hell they believed him and that’s all that mattered. He had convince the slaves on the plantation to join him in a revolt, to kill every single member of the Bose family, then flee north and live like kings. As a rule, no slaves were permitted to carry weapons, under penalty of death, but Moses figured he didn’t need a gun or a knife to kill Robert Bose. He had a shovel. Moses knew that Robert would be by late tonight. Earlier Moses had leaked out that he had a fresh batch of corn liquor. He made the best damn shine in all of Virginia, so you could be damn sure Robert would be by to get his share like always. So tonight Robert, Moses smiled, would get more than his share. Two hours earlier Robert had tucked his sons in to bed and kissed his wife. He had a few rounds to make before heading to bed. He decided not to mention that he needed to stop by Moses' shanty to pick up some moonshine, some things the wife just didn’t need to know. And damn if Moses didn’t make the best in all of the South. His wife knew he would be home late, she knew that when Moses made moonshine Robert would be home extra late. On those occasions, she knew, Robert would not be home before 2 am. She decided not to say anything, any use starting an argument. The walk to Moses’ shanty took 10 minutes. Sure enough the light was on. Robert stepped up to the door. “Open up Moses, It’s Robert.” “I know you are in there.” Robert pushed the door opened, slaves were not allowed to have doors that locked. The light from the shanty spilled out onto the yard, temporarily blinding Robert. Behind him, wielding a shovel, Moses snuck up. Robert turned in time to see his last sight, the blade of a shovel, just before it smashed into his face, crushing his nose forcing the cartilage up into his brain.  ˜ Lost and Found It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us-that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion. A. Lincoln -Ohio University: Sunday- I awoke to a knock on the door. I glanced over at the alarm clock. It flashed 12:00 am. “Go away.” I yelled The reply was another series of knocks. Rising from bed, I reached for the switch to the desk lamp. The sudden glow of light blinded me, I squinted as I grabbed a pair of sweatpants and slid them on. The knocks came again, this time more demanding. “Hold on, dammit!” I reached the door as the next onslaught of pounding began. I yanked open the door before my nighttime visitor could finish their last knock. “Jesus, Jeff! C’mon you’re gonna be late for the meeting” Craig blurted out. Craig Masters was my best friend, although at times like this I wondered about that. We had grown up together, went to school together and hung around each other. One time, back in 10th grade we even dated the same girl--that, didn’t work out too well. Craig and I worked together over the summers doing odd jobs, cruising the town for babes or going down to the Confederate border and watch the slaves work in the fields. Craig always hated to see people treated like dogs, and one afternoon we made a promise to do something about it. Craig is the one who talked me into enrolling at Ohio University. When he became President of the Student Abolitionist Club, he made me Vice President. Now here he was, reminding me there was a meeting tonight. “Shit! What time is it?” I mumbled in my half awake state. “2:30, the meetings in half an hour, hurry up.” Was his excited reply Craig was always a fast talker. Sometimes I thought that he could recite the Iliad in a single breath --or at least try. “I’ll meet you there, let me grab a shower.” “Well, then hurry, later.” I closed the door as he walked away. I tried to rub the sleep from my eyes as I got my towel and walked to the shower. By the time I was finished showering it was 2:45. I quickly dressed, slipped on my shoes, and grabbed my jacket -- the phone rang. He sat in his car, parked next to a black Monte Carlo that he knew was Jeff’s. He had gotten Jeff’s number several days before from the student directory. He watched as Craig Masters left the apartment and drive off in his Toyota. He picked up his phone, pausing for a moment to reflect on the frailty of life, then began entering Jeff’s phone number. He hit send and the phone on the other end began to ring. On the fourth ring “this is Jeff...leave a message.” The phone went dead. “Damn!” He muttered as he hung up. He waited ten minutes, then hit redial. The phone rang once, twice, -- “Hello?” “Jeff?” “Yes, who is this?” Was the reply “This is Dr. Rush.” He heard the swearing in the background. “I need to see you tonight, before you head to the meeting.” “See me tomorrow after class, you nut. ”Came the reply. The line went dead. I hung up the phone and walked out the door. I now had five minutes to get to the meeting. I would have just enough time to get there, if I drove. I reached into my pocket to retrieve my keys as I approached my car “Jeff!” I froze. Without turning I knew that it was Dr. Rush. Now he was stalking me. “Leave me ALONE!” I yelled. “I can’t let you go tonight.” Was his only response. “Look.” I said as I began to turn around to face him. Until now, I never realized just how big Dr. Rush was. He had fists the size of small hams and when one of them connected with my jaw, I knew then that he was a powerful man. The force of his punch knocked me back onto my car. As I slid to the ground, I remember that I had five minutes to get to the meeting. Then it went dark. ***** Craig was surprised at the turnout for the meeting. The Abolitionist Club consisted of 85 members, 74 were present. Usually only 20-25 people would attend the meetings. Ten of the members were working the Underground tonight, and Jeff was on his way. 3 am. Time to start. Ever since it was founded in 1865, the Abolitionist had met at 3 am promptly. Craig was not about to break tradition, Jeff or no Jeff. Craig pounded the gavel and called the meeting to order. The intruders came dressed in gray with hoods over their heads, Twenty in all. Each had an assault rifle and a 9mm in a shoulder holster hanging to the side. Five members guarded each one of the three doors. “Let me introduce ourselves”, “We are Morgan’s Raiders.”, “I am Morgan.” The leader announced. “Our demands are simple; we only want the leaders of this organization.” He paused looking around the room. “The rest are free to go after we have left.” The remaining five, including the one who called himself Morgan walked up to the fourteen Committee members. Morgan looked at Craig “Where’s the other one?” “What other one?” Craig stammered. In one lightning swift move, Morgan backhanded Craig. “The other committee member” “I--I don’t know. He never showed up.” Morgan delivered a second backhand to Craig’s face, blood now running from the corner of his mouth. “Gag him! The others too.” Morgan orders. “All of you! Get UP!” In each of the committee member’s mouths, an assailant placed a rag then taped the mouth shut. The wrist were taped as well. With the other members of Morgan’s Raiders looking on from their posts, the committee was ushered out of the room and taken to a van parked at the loading dock. Just before being shoved into the van each member had a hood placed over his head. Inside the warehouse, amidst the crying, curses and prayers for deliverance, the other fifteen assailants opened fire, then left to catch up with the other van. ***** Tick...tick...tick...tick... The bright light glared in my eyes. My head, no, my jaw ached. I was on someone’s couched. The house was quiet except for the ticking sound. I looked around the room. The walls were painted an off white, with wood trim. Along the wall was a five tiered barrister, filled with books. In one corner a grandfather clock, the source of the ticking sound. It was 5 am. Sitting alongside the far wall was a chessboard, the fancy style on a pedestal. I sat up to see more of the room. In a wing chair sat Dr. Rush, sound asleep. I remember, vaguely, his fist hitting my jaw. In front of me was a coffee table; on it was a sheet of paper with a quickly scribbled note -- to me. Jeff, Sorry, I couldn’t let you go to the meeting. I will explain everything to you in the morning. Dr. Rush The events of the night came back to me. I got up from the couched and walked over to Dr. Rush’s sleeping body. I just stared with contempt. I started to leave; I grabbing his keys off of the nearby table. Then I paused, explain what? I kicked his leg. He jumped with a yelp. “Wake the HELL UP!” I screamed. I kicked him again. He tried to rise, but I pushed him back down in the chair. “Why are you doing this to me?” I yelled as I kicked him again. “Why? Dammit, answer me!” I kicked him again. “You’d been killed!” He barked back, while massaging his beaten leg. I started to kick him again, but paused. What? Killed? Then followed through with my kick. “What do you mean, killed?” I asked “If I had let you go to the meeting you would have been killed, like everyone else there.” I ran towards the door. “He’s not there.” Dr Rush called out. I froze, my hand on the doorknob. “Craig, I mean. He’s not there.” “They took him and the committee to Strouds Run.” “Who? Who’s they?” I asked “Morgan’s Raiders.”, “I’m sorry Jeff.” I heard him say as I raced outside. ***** The van seemed to drive forever. Craig made note of every hill they went up and down, every turn they made. He wasn’t sure if he could backtrack, but it was all he could think about. The van finally slowed to a halt. He heard the front doors open and close, followed by the voices of their kidnapper. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but he heard an occasional laugh. The back door to the van opened. He heard one of the kidnappers shout “you!”, then some scuffling followed by the door closing. Ten minutes later, the scene repeated itself. By the twelfth time Craig had resolved that he was going to die. He thought of his family, prayed they were all right. They came for the next committee member, he was alone now, tears streaming down his face. Jeff, thank God you missed the meeting. Run Hide. Get away. Jeff would avenge his death. The door opened a hand grabbed him by the arm and drug him out of the van. “You’re next, boy!” Was all that was said to Craig. He was half walked half drug up a hill. He no longer had the strength to struggle. When he sensed they had come to the top of the hill they stopped. He could hear laughter coming from all around him. Above the sound of laughter he could here birds chirping. Must be almost dawn. His hood was removed. The sky, no longer black was still showing some of the brighter stars. Towards his left he could just see the hint of dawn. The air was crisp, with a light wind from the northwest. Before him stood Morgan, unmasked. He had dark brown hair with a receding hairline, his face smooth but partially hidden by a neatly combed handlebar moustache and trimmed beard that ended in a point, extended down to hide his throat. He was a big man, not fat, but muscular. His voice, thunderous. He was dressed neatly in all gray military fatigues, on each of his shoulders was an embroidered gold star, the type that denotes generalship. His boots were black and highly polished. John H. Morgan looked up; a smile separated his beard from his moustache to reveal teeth stained dark yellow. He stood up, spit a long steam of tobacco juice that landed on the toe of Craig’s right foot. “Guilty” The men around him laughed and cheered as his escort turned him around. Before him stood a stately old oak. Judging from its size it was at least a hundred years old. Eight feet above the ground was a large branch, with thirteen bodies hanging, their faces contorted in an agony preceding their death. Craig fell to the ground, his legs no longer able to support his weight. His escort dragged Craig over to the branch, lifted him back up into a standing position. Beneath the dangling rope was a small stool, behind that a small platform with two steps. The escort led Craig up the steps onto the platform, where a noose was placed around his neck and tightened. He felt the tension of the rope as someone adjusted it to take out all the slack. He was standing on the stool now, the platform was removed. Hanging beside Craig, was Caleb’s limp body. In life Caleb had been a big guy. A full 6’2”, Caleb weighed every bit of 300 pounds, but now he seemed so small. As the stool fell out from beneath him, he felt the knot tighten around his neck at the same time his feet hit the ground. The branch pulled him back up to just the point where his toes touched the ground. The sun was up now, the sky, blue with wisps of clouds and the birds chirping. Craig wheezed his last breath and closed his eyes as the vans drove off. ***** Looking out from Cutler Hall, Marc could see the previous link in the Underground. A simple blue light from the ridge four miles away let him know that the line was still active. In another hour the sun would be up. He glanced around the campus, wondering how the meeting had gone tonight. He really had wanted to be there. He had fallen in love with a new member, Mandy. He had planned to ask her out tonight at the meeting, but now that would have to wait until next weeks meeting, no he would call her today after classes. Marc glanced back at the ridge, still the single blue light-- no wait it was flashing now. A new passenger on the train. He picked up the phone, dialed a four-digit number and waited for the other party to pick up. “Yea?” Came the voice from the other end. “You have the time?” Marc asked. “5:30 am.” The other end went dead. ***** Luke had worked the pick-up section of the Underground for three years, this would be his tenth time he was ‘asked the time’. He hung up the phone, grabbed his keys and headed for his black Ford Explorer. Up on the ridge, stood a fire tower, which doubled as the second to last station on this Underground Railroad. The observation post on top of the fire tower was simple in structure. It sat 150 feet above the ground. Inside, a desk, a phone, a small space heater, a desk lamp, an old AM/FM radio, the Park Service dispatch radio, and a small control panel for the overhead beacon light. For the past twenty years, Kevin had worked here as a Forest Ranger, but doubled as a look out for the Railroad. In his entire career here, he personally had helped hundreds of runaway slaves. Tonight he would do so again. A voice identifying them as dispatcher number 713 came over his dispatch radio asking for a radio check. He switched the overhead beacon light to flash blue. There really was no dispatcher 713. The seven told him of an incoming runaway, the thirteen meant he was being chased by bounty hunters. Luke turned out his desk lamp, switched the overhead beacon to red, grabbed his rifle and sat by the window. ***** He had moved only at night, seeking shelter during the days at safe house along the way. During his stay two nights ago on Bluffington Island, he had to be shuttled out quickly; word had come to the owners that two bounty hunters were closing in on him. He had been running ever since. He could see the outline of the fire tower in the graying dawn. He was almost there, but behind him he could hear his pursuers gaining. He made it to the base of the steps when the first shot rang out. Green paint flecked off of the rail where the first the shot hit. He stopped, he could run no farther, for him there was no place left to run. He turned slowly, faced his hunters. The second man had his rifle up. Even from here he could see his toothless grin. The runaway closed his eyes awaiting his death. ***** Kevin had watched the runaway run up the trail towards the fire tower, behind him, about 100 yards were two other men, both armed with rifles. They definitely don’t look like friendlies. Kevin thought. He sighted down the barrel, until the bead from the front sight rested in the ‘V’ of the rear sight, then placed both on the chest of one of the men. He took a deep breath, let half of it out and squeezed the trigger. A single round ejected, and another took its place, he repeated the process. In the twenty years that Kevin had ran this post he had never killed anyone before. Maybe it was time for him to retire. He switched the beacon light from red back to blue. A pair of headlights came on. ***** The drive to the ridge only took five minutes. Luke had stopped at the base of the ridge and waited until the red beacon light turned blue. He drove up the gravel road to the pull off by the tower, parking the Explorer next to the green pick-up truck that bore the emblem of the National Park Service. Beneath the tower stood a single solitary black man. The sun had crested the horizon as Luke walked up to the runaway slave. “Moses? Moses it’s OK now, your safe, come with me.” Luke said in a quiet reassuring voice. Luke held out his hand as Moses opened his eyes. Moses looked down at Luke’s hand then back up to Luke’s face, a smile crept across his face. “We must go now.” Luke continued. “Where we go?” Was all that Moses said. “Far away from here, away from the Confederacy and slavery.” Luke promised. They drove back down the ridge towards town. The sun was up now. A few wisps of clouds dotted the sky. ***** I ran to his car, fumbling with his keys. I found one that looked like it would unlock the door. I dropped them. Damn! Retrieving them I tried again. I turned the key and the door unlocked. The car started on the first try. I slid it into reverse and hit the gas pedal. The tires spun, then caught. In the middle of the street, I slammed it into drive and sped off towards Strouds Run. The dashboard clock showed 5:45. The drive to Peach Ridge road took 10 minutes. It would take another five minutes to get to Strouds Run. Turning on to Strouds Run road, I nearly collided with the first of four white vans that sped off in the opposite direction. I rounded the curve, crested a small hillock and saw the sign for Strouds Run State Park. I pulled into the parking lot just as the sun crested the horizon. I forced the car into park and jumped out. I looked around. The sky was blue, dotted with wisps of clouds. No Craig. “CRAIG!” I yelled. Nothing. I don’t know why I chose to run up the hill. I guess I figured I could see farther and that my calls for Craig would be heard. Call for Craig, damn, call Craig. I had forgotten that I had my phone with me. I punched in Craig’s number. The phone rang twice and someone picked it up. “Craig, Jeff, Where the hell are you?” I blurted out. “Oh hanging around.” Came the response from someone’s voice I did not know, followed by a laugh. I hung up. My stomach churned. I looked back up the hill. On top of the hill was a solitary old oak tree. I started up the hill, first in a walk, but gradually breaking into a run. It wasn’t until I reached the top that I saw Craig, fifty feet in front of me, hanging alongside the other members of the committee. “Craig!” He did not answer. My only thought was to get him down. I ran up to his body grabbed his arm. Still warm. I shook him “Craig!”, “Craig !” Still no response. I felt his pockets for his knife. He always carried one. It was rosewood handled lockback with a fox stamped on the sides. I had gotten it for his 15th birthday. I could never remember a time since then that he didn’t have it on him. His pockets were empty. “Craig” I whimpered. “No.” I whispered. ***** The lead van pulled off the side of the road as the passenger hung up the phone. One by one the remaining three vans pulled up behind. Morgan stepped out and trotted back to the third van, talk briefly then moved on to the fourth van and repeated the message. Morgan ran back up to the lead van. As the first two vans took off back towards Athens, the last two turned around and headed back towards the hill. I fell to my knees sobbing, an act that saved my life. For no sooner had I fallen to the ground when I heard gunfire from behind me and the distinctive thud of bullets hitting Craig’s body, where moments before I had stood. I don’t know if I had learned this from watching too many action movies or from some instinctive primal behavior, but in one fluid movement I went from kneeling to rolling on my left shoulder in a somersault to a low crouch to a dead run for the trees in front of me. Gunfire erupted behind me as I ran. I was in the forest now. I stopped, panting. I looked back towards the oak, there were at least six; maybe seven of them, all dressed in gray. They fanned out along the edge of the forest, moving slowly towards me. I darted; bullets clipped branches over my head and kicked up dirt in front of me. I had come to the edge of a ridge, looking back I saw they were still coming. I turned once again and ran down the side of the ridge to a cluster of pines. I ran through the pines and down into another valley, this one narrower, with a dried creek bed at the bottom. I followed the creek bed for about forty feet before it split into two; I chose the one leading to the left. As I ran, my tears gave way to fear, then fear gave way to anger. I continued running up the creek bed. I must be gaining some distance, because I could no longer hear my pursuers behind me. I began angling up the hillside, weaving in and out of the oak trees that stood sentry in the forest. The crack of a rifle followed by a THUD as a bullet struck a nearby tree caused me to drop and roll. I hadn’t realized till now that I was wearing a white shirt. I stripped off the shirt, the cold air tingling my bare chest. I needed to make myself invisible. Think dammit think. I dug through the leaves grabbed some dirt and rubbed it into my chest arms and back, anything to dull the color of my skin. I began running again, back down the hillside following one hollow after another. Another bullet shrieked above my head. I needed to make a stand against them. But how. There were too many of them and I had no weapon...or did I? I turned to look back towards my pursuers, they had spread out. If I can get them one at a time I might have a chance. I grabbed a nearby branch, took out my pocketknife and began to slice away at one end. By the time I was done I had a crude spear. Now to get one of them to come to me. By chance the one that was heading my direction was also the farthest away. This could work...I hope. I took off my pants and began filling it with leaves then began filling my shirt as well. Laying them out on the ground beside a rather large oak tree, as if I was lying there. Placing a head size rock at one end and two smaller rocks near the pants cuffs I covered the imitation me up with leaves, leaving enough of the clothing to be seen yet giving the impression that I was trying to bury myself in the leaves, didn’t look very convincing, but it was the best I could do for now. Finally I removed my last article of clothing, white boxers, really need to change my wardrobe, grabbed the spear and climbed the tree overhead. The tree afforded plenty of cover. The leaves, ablaze in colors of red and yellow, had not yet fallen to blanket the ground below. I perched on a branch that was roughly twenty feet above the makeshift body. Now I had to wait, quietly and patiently. I watched as the man came closer. He was dressed in a gray uniform, not unlike those I had seen in pictures from the Civil War. There were no stripes to indicate what rank or whether or not he was a soldier. His face, what wasn’t covered in a black thick beard, looked like leather. He was a stocky guy. Definitely someone I would not want to do hand to hand combat with, that’s for sure. He was about 50 feet away now. He wasn’t looking towards the body below me, but off to his left. I tried to look in the same direction but the leaves hid any view from me. He reached into his pocket and dug out a cigarette and a small lighter. A puff of smoke loomed over his head before the wind carried it away. He moved closer to tree, seemingly unaware of the dummy below or I above. He squatted down as he continued to smoke his cigarette. Hope you enjoy it you son of a bitch, that's gonna be your last one. I could see him better now. On his side was a holster, a 9mm strapped inside. Just below that was a knife, a very large knife. He rested his rifle, what looked like a CSA issued Jefferson 5; one of the better automatics rifles the Confederacy produced, across his legs. The rustling of leaves brought both my pursuer and I out of our trance-like state. A squirrel was digging around the body below, perhaps looking for nuts to store away. Either way it brought my hunter ‘s attention back to the tree. He stood up slowly, put the rifle to his shoulder and slowly made his way towards the body below. I grabbed the crude spear, choking down on it about halfway. God don’t let me fuck this one up. I braced myself for the jump as he approached the body. Ten, eight, six, four feet away. He bent over the body poking it with the barrel of the rifle. I jumped. What seemed like eternity ended in a matter of seconds as the spear entered the back of his body, drove through the heart and a lung stopping when it struck his sternum. Blood bubbled from his lips. I looked around. Carefully scanning the horizon, nothing. Not a sound except the gentle breeze blowing against the leaves. I grabbed the rifle, checked it and propped it up against the tree. I grabbed the holster and 9mm, the knife, his boot laces and his wallet. Ephraim Martell. Fifty-six dollars. “Guess you won’t be needin’ this now, will ya Ephraim.” I grabbed my pants, emptying them of leaves, and my shoes, and stood up. I was trembling, and I had to pee. I leaned over the dead soldier. Mother Fucker I began pissing all over him. Slipping my pants and shoes back on, I walked over to the side of the hill. “COME AND GET ME, YOU STUPID FUCKS!” A shot rang out. It is hard to tell where it came from, voices and gunfire echo through out the hollows. They didn’t know where I was either, since I heard no bullet whining overhead. “LOUSY ASS SHOT ” More shots rang out. Nothing even came close. Something moved on the ridge across the hollow from me. I knelt down slowly. Easy now, quick movement draws the eye. Again--It was one of my hunters. I placed the rifle on my shoulder. Sighted down the barrel. Three hundred yards, at least. I placed the bead inside the ‘vee’ of rear sight. Then lined both of them up just above his head. Don’t miss! Squeeze the trigger, don’t jerk it. I watched as his body crumbled to the ground. More Shots rang out, this time a few even bullets flew over me. “COME ON NOW, YOU CAN DO BETTER THAN THAT!” I leaped up and ran back across the other side of the ridge. Gunshots and bullets filled the air around me. Well they now where I am now. I ran down the side of the ridge, followed the hollow as it curved to the right and climbed back up another ridge. “He shot Ephraim!” I heard in the distance. “Goddammit, he shot my brother.” Well now they know I am armed. I looked back over the hollow to the ridge I had just left. I could see three of them moving around over there. I dropped to the ground, took aim and fired off a single round. I watched the man crumble to the ground. “SONUVABITCH!” I heard one of them call out, then followed up with shots fired in my general direction, though none very close. I laid there for a few minutes waiting to see who would be brave enough to pop up their head. I figured that there were ten of them originally, I just dropped my third so there should be, I hope, only seven left. If there was only three on the opposing hilltop and I dropped one, then that means there are...four somewhere else...I rolled to the left as shots hit where I had just been. I fired two quick rounds back, I knew I missed, but it gave me a chance to move. I jumped up and ran, weaving through the trees. More shots flew overhead as I darted back down the ridge. The sun was high overhead. 1:00 pm, my guess. I ran through a small copse of trees, stopped to catch my breath and looked around. Nothing. They must have regrouped and are trying to catch up. My stomach grumbled. I couldn’t really remember when the last time I ate. But I was hungry. I knew I couldn’t risk shooting anything, so the only option I had left was to forage. I heard movement behind me. I froze, then slowly turned around, and brought the rifle up. Twenty yards away stood an eight point buck. It had not yet caught wind of me. The buck’s ears twitched as I slid my hand behind me and grasped the handle of the hunting knife I had acquired. I pulled the knife out of the sheath making only the slightest whisper as I eased it out of the sheath. The buck raised its head. The wind was in my face, so I knew that he could not hear or smell me unless the wind shifted. Except for the slow movement of my hand, pulling the knife around to my front, I remained completely motionless, even slowing how fast I blinked my eyes. The buck’s head went back down to continue browsing. The buck and I must have registered the movement at the same time. He had brought his head up at the same time I dropped the knife. However I had the rifle up before he had the chance to bolt. I fired. One more bad guy down. The buck was gone and know I needed to be gone, as well, that shot would bring the remaining 6 to my area. So much for eating. I continued my run for safety, this time staying down in the hollow to conserve energy. After what amounted to another 2 mile run I stopped to catch my breath. I checked to see how many bullets I had left. Three...Shit. I would need to get more, or think of something else. ˜˜˜˜˜ Athens 3:45pm Luke and Moses walked out of the diner into the bright sunlight. They had only thirty-five more minutes to get to the airport so Moses could catch his flight to Montana. It had become practice to fly the runaways up north to create as much distance between them and the bounty hunters that would pursue them if they stayed in Athens County. Though many former slaves eventually filtered back down to some of the southern States, no had ventured to live in the border States. A flash of sunlight caught Luke’s eye. It took only a second to realize that it had come from a white van across the street. Actually the glare had come from the barrel of a pistol. He tackled Moses, pushing him behind a nearby-parked car as three rapid shots shattered the car window above their head. Showered with glass, Luke drew his on handgun, a 9mm Colt. The van sped off as Luke raised his head to fire. The back door of the van opened up; Luke fired a single round at the guy standing in the doorway. The body slumped down then fell out of the van as it sped off. “Stay here Moses.” Luke yelled as he darted towards the body. Sirens filled the air as Luke reached the body. He was not dead, but Luke doubted if he would survive. “Who are you?” Luke asked “Fuck you.” The man whispered then exhaled one last time. Luke replaced the 9mm in his shoulder holster as the city police arrived. “Know him?” The officer asked. “No idea.” Was Luke’s response as he walked back to check on Moses. The blast from Bentley Hall was deafening. Thick black smoke billowed from a third story window. Shit! That’s Dr. Rush’s office. Mobs of panicking students raced out of the building spilling onto the street. Many where crying, some shaking there heads, others too numb to react. All of them slowed Luke’s rush into the building. He made it to the second floor when he heard cries of help and moans of the injured that had gotten trapped in the classroom below Dr Rush’s office. He detoured over to the room through the smoke and dust. The door was stuck. He put his shoulder to the door and shoved but it wouldn’t move. “Let me try.” Moses, put his hand on the door, leaned away then put all of his weight in one massive push on the door. It gave some. Luke joined in and managed to push the door open. Thick smoke and dust rushed into their face. Coughing, Luke pulled Moses down onto his knees as they began looking for the injured. One by one they dragged the students out into the hallway where rescue workers met them. Luke continued his search upstairs. Where Dr. Rush’s office door had once stood was now a large gaping hole. No one could have survived that. He saw what looked like the body of a middle age man. He moved closer, only to discover that there was no head, in fact there wasn’t really all that much left of the entire upper body. He turned as he began violently retching. Rescue workers found Luke and escorted him downstairs and outside for fresh air. He heard the explosion as he left the campus clinic. It sounded like it had come from around Bentley Hall. He hobbled over to his car. He was only able to drive a short distance before the traffic had him at a standstill. He got out of the car and began walking over towards the scene. Blank stares of students greeted him as he walked past. Someone grabbed his arm and pulled him off the street and into an open doorway. “Come with me.” Kane ordered. “Kane, what the hell happened?” “Someone bombed your office, Dr Rush.” “You my friend are dead.” “What?” Dr Rush asked with a puzzled look “Let me explain.” ˜˜˜˜˜ Somewhere in Strouds Run 8pm The small flames leapt up from the branches, gradually growing to produce a nice fire. The cold was settling in. I knew I needed to keep warm, but was more determined to end this fight. There was only three left and I knew that they had not given up on me yet. Until know I had been lucky, they continued to push while I continued to run, now I needed to pull together every resource I could, start attacking and finish this fight. They saw the glow of the campfire. “That could be him.” The first one whispered “Ya reckon?” Came the response from the leader of the three. “I don’t like the feel of this.” The third member whispered back “What!?” The leader countered back. “He’s just a stuck up little schoolboy, who’s probably afraid of the dark.” “Hell, y’all know that these northern city folks don’t know pig squat about the woods.” “Ya’ well needin I remind you two that this stuck up northern city school boy has already killed four of our guys.” The short one said as he spat on the ground in front of him. “Just lucky, he was that’s all.” The leader responded checking his rifle. “Let’s go” as the leader of the three began walking towards the firelight. “We’ll just ease our way up to the fire and unload our rifles on him.” “He’ll never knew what happened, him bein blinded by the firelight and all.” The third guy grinned. I saw them approach the fire then split up. They were going to try to circle around. I shifted, raised my rifle and waited. They were only about thirty feet away when I fired the first shot, dropping the shortest of the three. I rolled to the left and fired again dropping the second pursuer. I rolled back to the right. There was only one left and he was nowhere in sight. My arm was burning and my hand began to feel numb. I had been shot. Shit. I continued to steady the rifle as best as I could, but it was becoming more difficult to hold it up. It was pitch black now with only the flickering on the distant fire to give any semblance of light to the area. I caught a glimpse of something off to the right. The last one, the tall guy was headed towards me. I rolled onto my back cradling the rifle in my arms. He stopped. What’s he doing? I tried to bring the rifle up but my arm would no longer cooperate. I inched my hand up to the trigger. The other hand, I used to aim the rifle in his direction. I knew that in the position and in this condition, that hitting him would be damn near impossible. Behind him, the sound of leaves rustling... He turned and brought his rifle to bear on whatever was behind him. I managed to sit up. Drawing up my knees I rested the rifle on them. My hand was completely numb now and my arm refused to work. I had never shot left-handed before but now I was forced to. Luck must have smiled on me as I watched the tall man’s body crumble to the ground. Behind his lifeless body, the rustling of leave kept approaching. Damn another one left. Then it stopped. He had never seen Jeff before, yet every instinct had told him that who he was watching, was indeed the man he was helping to search for. He knew better than to approach Jeff. Besides he had done his part in saving him and more he had been willing to attack the tall one to save Jeff. But for now his job was mostly done. He twitched his cropped ear, listening to the forest sounds, then flicking his tail, Lucifer darted off. The chirping of birds and the sun beaming it’s first rays of light in my eyes brought me out of my slumber. I had wrapped a shirt around the bullet hole on my right arm, today the shirt was crusted in blood, but feeling was coming back to my hand and no fresh blood was visible. Using the rifle as a crutch, I stood up, I swayed a bit, then walked over to the fire. Checking to make sure it was out, and then I headed towards civilization. An hour later I stood upon a rocky ledge overlooking a valley. With my pursuers dead, I was able to think back to the events that led to this moment. Tears streamed down my face as I thought back to Craig. I didn’t know where I was, or even where I was going. Craig’s death had be avenged, at least in my eyes. I had no idea how to go about that, but I vowed I would not stop until I had. Craig desired no less. I climbed down from my rocky outpost, following a trail that led to the river below. I figured that if I followed the river, eventually I would come to some sort of civilization. Thirty minutes later the forest gave way to a meadow. The river curved to the right, but in front of my was a grassy hill, on top of which sat a black helicopter. I ducked back into the woods and watched. I saw no movement around the hill, yet I was still cautious. I felt the anger flood back into my veins, as I thought that my pursuers had received fresh back up. I saw a figure move in the cockpit. I circled around and eased my way up the hillside towards the back of the helicopter. I had the 9mm in my hand, and I was so ready to use it. The pilot froze when I placed the barrel to the back of his head. “Who are you?” I asked “Lt Gregory King, United States Army” he replied. “Well Lt King, move your hands very slowly up to your head.” It took only a split second to register his hands moving up, but by then he had grabbed the 9mm out of my hand and was bailing from the helo. By the time I had recovered from the shock of his sudden move, he was kneeling outside the helo pointing the 9mm at me. A slow smile crept across his face followed by a laugh. “Alpha One, this is Osprey, Have acquired target” He lowered the 9mm. I sprang from the seat and threw my body towards his head. Knocking him to the ground. I somersaulted off of him, but before I could get my balance he had grabbed my leg and yanked me back to the ground and rolled on top of me to pin me down. I delivered a couple of hits to his kidneys and managed to knee him in the stomach, then dealt a solid hit to his nose with my elbow. He rolled off holding his bleeding nose. I rolled back on top of him and began punching. All of the anger and frustration of the past two days flowed out of me. With every hit I could see Craig’s lifeless body hanging from that branch. I was forcefully lifted up off of the Lt and unmercifully dropped to the ground. When I looked up, before me, not but inches, was and old fox with a cropped ear. I scrambled back. The fox followed. “Easy Lucifer.” Came the voice. “It’s O.K. Jeff; we’re here to help.” I looked around. Five men surrounded me, all dressed in black, and all very heavily armed. They must have seen the fear in my eyes. “My name is Kane.” I looked up to see the crowd open up and let whoever had talked through. He had to be the most perfect man alive. He issued some orders to the surrounding men and came over to me and held out his hand. I started to cry. Lt King was loaded into the helo. Kane sat inside talking on the radio. The members of his group tended to the equipment, occasionally glancing my way and whispering comments, grunts and nods, I assumed about me, no doubt. The fox, well he just sat there looking at me. I could swear that he had this look of respect and sorrow in his eyes, as though he had known of my loss and what I had just been through. He eventually curled up beside me and placed his head in my lap. “Back up will be here shortly.” I heard Kane comment. His voice had a warm resonate sound to it. I leaned back, closed my eyes, and listened to his voice. “Jeff,... Jeff... Wake up we’re leaving.” I opened my eyes to see Kane kneeling over me. I tried to rise but my body was too weak. I managed to sit up. Kane reached out his hand to help me up. I extended my arm, grabbed his hand and was pulled up. I stood there looking into his eyes, hypnotized. “we’re getting out of here.” I started to move but I only managed to fall. I remember him grabbing me with his strong arms, and then everything went black. ***** I awoke to a burning sensation in my arm. I tried to move, but couldn’t. I opened my eyes to a white room. There was an IV running into my arm. I tried to move again but I was strapped down. Hey!” I screamed. “Let me go!” A nurse walked in, checked the monitors and the IV bag then rested her hand on my forehead. “It’s OK Mr. Johnson, you’re in Fort Buell Army Hospital and the Doctor will be in shortly to see you.” “Let me go!” I demanded. “In a minute Mr. Johnson, just rest for now.” She turned and made her way to the door. The nurse looked over her shoulder, smiled and disappeared into the hallway. Exhausted, I closed my eyes. “Mr. Johnson? Jeff...I’m Doctor Rosenbaum.” “Sorry about these straps, but you were very restless the last couple of days.” He undid the straps around my ankles then around my left wrist. “I’m going to leave the other restraint in place for now, until the IV is finished, OK?” “How long have I been here?” “Two days, you were in bad shape, extremely dehydrated and you lost quite a bit of blood too. “But you’ll be ok now” What happened to the guy who brought me here...Where is he ?” I asked “Kane? He left about two hours ago.” “He must be some friend. He was here the entire first night and off and on today.” “I convinced him that he should get something to eat.” “you rest for now, I’ll get a nurse to bring you in something to eat.” After the Doctor had left, I managed to find the remote for the TV. “In the aftermath of the Ohio University bombing, the President has activated all reserve units. We go now to Greg in Washington...Greg?” “Yes Maggie” “Greg, are we on the break on a new Civil War?” “Well Maggie, the President and Congress have kept a tight lip about what the United State’s next move will be. So far, no one has claimed responsibility for the bombing that claimed Dr. Benjamin Rush and the other one hundred students in Bentley Hall. Our sources do indicate as you have mentioned that President Stone has called up all reserve units for possible deployment. But so far no one in Washington is commenting about the possibility of war.” “Maggie backs to you.” “Thanks Greg. “We’ll keep you informed of the latest news as they become available.” “After this break we will...” “Knock Knock.” He stood in the doorway. Dressed in jeans and a white shirt that made his tan seem even darker. He walked towards me carrying a vase with flowers, like the kind you get in a hospital gift shop. “Thought they would brighten up the room.” This was a different Kane than I had seen a few days ago. He had a relaxed look and a smile that seemed to naturally come easy. Nothing compared to the warrior had seen two days ago. He moved across the room fluidly almost as if floating. I attempted t smile back. “How ya doin’ champ?” “Tired.” I whispered “You put on quite a show out there.” “Seven men... and my pilot.” “No wonder Dr. Rush wanted you on the team.” “Wha?” I stammered. “I’ll tell ya later, you just rest for now. “Sergeant!” Kane called out towards the door. “Yes Sir?” came the response as the soldier moved into the doorway. “Where’s this man’s food?” “On it’s way now Sir.” “I took the Liberty of having food brought to you... get you off of this hospital grub.” “Thanks.” I mumbled “But why the guards?” Kane’s sighed his smile fading. “Because, you only got seven men, and there are plenty more to take their place... You managed to take down seven of Morgan’s Raiders... But Morgan wasn’t one of them... We believe that he was his unit that was responsible for the bombing....” “Hey!” Kane’s smile was back, like it had never even left his face. “There’s time to discus this later, when you are up and feeling better.” A uniformed orderly knocked on the door and entered with a tray of food. A Nurse followed protesting. “Sir, visiting hours are over, you can come back after Mr. Johnson has eaten.” Kane took the tray of food from the orderly. “I’ll handle feeding Mr. Johnson, Nurse, I’m sure you have more important responsibilities down the hall.” “Doesn’t she Sergeant.” Kane flashed a broader smile. “Sir,...” the nurse began to protest. “Yes Sir, I believe hear some one calling her now.” The sergeant winked. Ma’am, after you.” leading the nurse from the room. I couldn’t help but laugh at what had just taken place and Kane’s smile broke into a raucous laugh. ***** A few days after being released, I found myself at Kane’s house. He had put me up in a spare bedroom. I was feeling better, though still a bit weak. Kane had left earlier this morning and still had not returned. I got dressed in clothes that Kane had picked up for me on the way home from the hospital. They were military khaki’s but I was not complaining, anything is better that those bare-asses hospital gowns they humiliate you with. I walked down the hallway to the kitchen. I didn’t get to see much of his place last night since we arrived well after dark. Standing now in the kitchen I looked out over the backyard. A fenced in field contained a barn and five horses. Beyond that I could just make out a pond and then woods. Closer to the house was a pool, emptied for the season with three tires laying on the bottom. I slipped on an oversized coat and walked out the back door. It felt good to be outside. I walked past the pool towards the fence and resting my arms on the fence post I watched the horses graze. A black one walked over towards me, stopping just short of my reach. That’s Shadow. The voice behind me said. Startled, I turned quickly, and still being a bit weak, I started to fall. “Easy Champ.” Kane grabbed me as I fell. I collapsed in his arms. He held me tightly for a moment, then stood me back up. “You should still be in bed, Jeff.” “I needed fresh air, I ...I thought....” “You thought you could take on the world again.” Kane laughed His smile permeating my soul. Two days later we were out riding the horses. Kane guided his horse, Magic, towards the woods. I, astride Shadow, followed. We rode along a trail that wound through the thick forest of pines and oaks. A gradual climb up brought us out of the woods and into a grassy field. A herd of deer grazed in the distant, startled by the fields newest intruders, darted off. Kane dismounted and tied Magic to a nearby tree, I did likewise. We walked towards a cliff that overlooked his property. Two boulders framed a trail that led down the cliff. “Be careful.” Kane started down the trail. I followed Kane down the trail, which went down about fifteen feet before running along the cliff face, then ended abruptly at the opening of a cave. Kane disappeared inside. hesitantly I started towards the opening “You coming?” I heard from inside the cave. “Uh....Yeah.” It was unlike any cave I had ever seen. The first twenty feet were sandstone walls, then concrete with pillars. This was not a cave but a bunker. The tunnel gave way to a large room, lit by to banks of fluorescent lights. The room was adorned with Native American art. A table and chairs sat in one corner not far from a wood-burning stove. Kane explained how he had taken an old riverbed and transferred it into a man-made cave, complete with running water and electricity. Then planted trees along the service road to give it a more natural appearance. “Took me nearly a year to finish this.” “Amazing.” Three doors led to other rooms. Kane walked over to one of the doors. It opened into another large room with a couple of cots, a stove, shelves of canned food, and another table. Back in the main room he led me down a hallway that ended at the bathroom with a shower. I was truly impressed, and wild fantasies about Kane and I in this room flickered in my mind. Kane sat down at the table and explained the American Defense Forces to me. That he had been serving for three years now and was a team leader. He admitted that Dr. Rush was trying to recruit me. More importantly, he confessed that Dr. Rush was very much alive and in hiding. I do not know if it was because of all that had happened to me in the last three weeks, or if it was an attempt to get closer to Kane, or win him over, but I readily agreed to enlist. Kane made arrangements the following day for me to enroll in the next Basic Training cycle. I would be leaving tomorrow. Thirteen weeks of grueling hell. But tonight it was just Kane and I. We had, no doubt grown closer over the last month. As of yet, though, I had not expressed my feelings for him. I did not know how he would take my love for him. Sometimes, I felt that he knew that I had fallen in love with him. But I was scared, that if I told him, it would scare him off, or worse, offend him. A fire blazed in the fireplace. We sat on the sofa talking. “I’m going to miss you.” I said “You’re not leaving forever, in 13 weeks you’ll be back.” “It’s just that...” “Shhh.” He said placing his finger on my lips My eyes locked onto his. All time seemed to stop. He leaned over and gave me a quick kiss on the lips, then, as if judging what my reaction would be, looked into my eyes. I smiled. He leaned towards me again, placing his hand behind my neck and kissed me again, passionately.

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