The Time Rippers Book 2: Gettysburg by Pete Bertino - HTML preview
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CHAPTER 4 GETTYSBURG
Date: July 1st, 1863 Universe:1
Shoes. Shoes, that's all he needed. Hell they thats all every rebel soldier in Pennsylvania needed.
Colonel Bueller and the Georgia 10th along with 20,000 other soldiers had been on the march since Upperville, and hadn't stop for more than an hour in days. There was little food for the soldiers, and even less for the horses but plenty of water.
The soldiers spirits hadn't been licked yet, but the soles of their shoes(most of which were beyond
repair already) had been worn away like The
Colonel's patience with the war department. Just before reaching the border to Maryland, Bueller and his men came across a large farm with the
stars and bars flag waving on the porch.
Bueller had seen the farm had seven slaves, big buck niggers, wearing shoes. He ordered the
niggers to remove their footwear immediately. And they complied fearfully, until their master came out.
“What the hell, you think y’all doin!”
“Sir,” said Bueller sitting upon his horse not feeling very diplomatic.. “I am requisitioning
these shoes. If you'd kindly stay the hell out of my way, I won't have my men string you up like a
nigger.”
The farmer, a man too old to be serving in the war, spit out a stream of thick brown goo at The
Colonels horse.
“I ain’t got to give you nuthin, y’all think you the damn yanks, takin what'cha all...”
The farmer was dead with a shot in the chest from the colonel's revolver. His men hardly stirred, the populous had been hard to get along with this far north of Richmond. Bueller could see that the
southern nation was growing weary of war.
If only the Confederate citizens were as resilient as the soldiers. They were with out shoes, and had been marching with out a peep. His son Francis
had also been a prime example of a good soldier, sharing out his boots to the other men in his
regiment.
He had been at The Colonel's side since they left Brandy Station with Jeb Stuart, who was now also in Pennsylvania. Entering the Yankees back door had lifted The Colonel's spirits, a fight was
coming, a big one. Late last night they were eight miles west of a little place
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called Cashtown. They had finally reached town in the middle of the night, the hundred or that lived here were sleeping still.
Brig. General JJ Petigrew’s brigade was the first to reach here just after two in the morning Bueller guessed while trying to squit at his pocket watch in the darkness of night. Major Gen. Henry Heth
ordered Pettigrew to send scouts to look at the nearby town of Gettysburg. It had a much bigger population than Cashtown which could mean more
supplies, especially shoes. Captain Frank Bird of the 11th North Carolina had the privilege of
leading the expedition.
Bird had returned an hour earlier, looking like he had just seen a ghost. He went riding at a fast clip past Buellers men and headed for General Lee's
tent, minus the shoes.
Approaching Bueller was a colonel for the 47th
North Carolina. Riley Poke a young man, who
spent most of his early life in Louisiana, was
working on a tobacco farm in Raleigh when Sumter fell.
He was a brave an officer as Bueller had seen in the numerous skirmishes with Federals and state militia since entering the state. He was younger than The Colonel’s own son thanks to the loss of so many older men in war. He was always anxious to learn Buellers input.
“Can't say I like the looks of that.” said Poke.
Bueller sometimes had to listen closely to the
young man, whose accent was as thick as
porridge.
“Nor I, Colonel.” said Bueller, keeping his eye on Lee's tent.
“Maybe the damn Yankees are gonna flank us?” he said trying to judge Buellers reaction to his
question.
“Maybe, ” he said rubbing at the scar on his left cheek which had a mosquito bite nestled in it. “I think what we've been waitin for is finally comin.”
The words rang in Poke's ears, all they had been
through was blood and suffering mixed with guts and shit. The idea it could get any worse made
Poke's stomach twitch, and his bowels feel hot and loose.
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An hour had passed, Bueller tended to his horse, his men, his son and cleaned his weapon several times, all the while waiting for Pettigrew to come out of Lee's tent. He was brushing his steeds mane again when Pettigrew finally did exit Lee's tent, but it was another hour before anything happened.
Pettigrew gathered Bueller and three other
regimental officers that included Poke and Bird to a tiny Mennonite church whose stone front was
riddled with pock marks from the brief firefight with militia . Despite its Gothic stone work outside, the inside had a farm house feel to it, with neat rows of wooden pews and soft candle light
giving the altar and the simple wood work a homey warm feeling that made Bueller think of his den back in Georgia.
“Men, I have asked General Lee to allow me a
reconnaissance of Gettysburg, though we will be unable to engage without concentrating forces.
General Lee does not believe it to be more than the state militia asking for another dose of southern charm.”
The other officers laughed, except Bueller and Bird. Pettigrew doesn't believe this will be a small skirmish, he believed Bird but couldn’t convince Lee.Not entirely, otherwise they would be flanking Gettysburg instead of just keeping an eye on it.
“I need four of our regiments here.” he rolled out a map of the town on the altar and leaned over it.
“Two company’s north and two south of the center of town.” he said pointing to the map.
According to the map Gettysburg had four main
roads, that emanated from the towns center. There were a few shorter roads in around town were any number of Yankee soldiers could be lurking.
“What do we do If there are Federal troops in
town, sir.” asked Bueller.
“General Lee doesn't expect we'll see any,
Colonel.”
Good way to cover your ass if the shit hits the fan, thought Bueller.
“General, I’d be glad to take the southern route and have Colonel Bueller along with me as well.”
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Bueller nodded agreeably, when the General gave his approval. Bueller returned to his men, but took is son aside.
“You doin, OK Francis?” he asked his son.
“Yes, sir. Are we movin out now?”
“Us and Colonel Poke’s men are gonna take a look at that town we passed,” he said gesturing with a nod in the direction of Gettysburg.
“You stay as close as you can to me, you
understand?” Bueller said still shocked that his boy was a man in his twenties, a corporal that would most certainly become an officer by the wars end.
“There gonna be more Yanks?” his son asked with a steely glint in his eyes.
“General Lee believes it’ll be more state militia. I do not, so mind me when I say stick close to me. I
have a feelin were gonna be knee deep in Yankee’s by noon time.”
Just an hour before sunrise Colonel Bueller and Colonel Poke rode on their horses with nearly a thousand men marching in the thicket of woods
approaching Gettysburg at a steady pace. Edging closer to Emmitsburg road, which would take them south of the center of town. The men were stone silent, the only sounds were pounding of bare feet on the forest floor and the clop of his horses’
hooves.
Poke was at the front of the column. Bueller, a hundred yards back kept his eyes peeled, surprised that it was so hot in the north, he couldn’t recall if it was still June. Judging by the humidity it was August in the shady part of hell.
The men were absently waving at large black flies and scores of mosquitoes that were biting their arms feet and face. Bueller was scratching again the bite that was right in the groove of his scar. He was clawed at it until he drew blood to relieve the itching. It was the Mexican War all over again, when it seemed like the mosquitos would kill the soldiers before the enemy could.
They had reached the outskirts of the town,
Emmitsburg road cut through a patch of woods with the town splayed out beyond a large
sprawling mansion that rivaled The Colonel’s back 66
in Georgia. The road that lead out of the woods was bigger and lined with houses but was void of people. The Colonel didn’t believe any soldiers were hiding nearby.
Bueller was gazing into town when all the soldiers came to a standstill. Bueller gigged his horse and got it at a fast trot towards the front of the column.
He came upon Poke off his horse standing with two women one was skinny with brown hair, the other a full figure women with long reddish hair.
“Colonel Poke, why have we stopped?” Bueller
said edging past the column on his horse.
Poke looked up at Bueller on his horse with a
perplexed look on his face. Bueller dismounted
and roughly passed Poke to confront the two
women standing in his soldier’s way.
“Ladies, if you kindly get out of the god damn way.”
The woman with reddish hair spoke first.
“You shouldn’t take the Lords name in vain when His daughters have traveled so long to bring you a gift.”
“Colonel, I think you should give these ladies a listen.” Poke said.
Bueller though was in too much of a hurry to care if this women was showing her tits.
“Little missy, If you do not move I will be
forced...”
At first , Bueller thought she was taking out a shiny leather bound bible perhaps as gifts for the soldiers which was not uncommon. She held up the object, Bueller was startled to see his face on the cover of the bible. He realized after a moment it wasn’t the good book, but a black glass mirror.
“All that we ask for,sir,” the red haired woman said “is citizenship.”
“What is this, ma’am?” Bueller said eyeing it
closely, he grazed the glass gently with a finger tip.
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“What the devil...” he said being greeted with a
picture, no correction a colored picture, of the Rocky Mountains, he knew because he had
traveled through the area once with a few of his old friends from the war with Mexico. The
Rockies were a wild land of gargantuan rocks and year round snow, he was used to the lush green
lands of Georgia were hardly a snow flake ever
fell.
“I don’t know sir, but I believe this man can tell you.” she said pointing to the left side of the road.
Bueller watched as a third woman, older than the other two led a horse, with a man tied to the
saddle blind folded. Any other time The Colonel might have laughed at such a sight, but this seemed like some kind of ominous dream.
Bueller gazed at the man who was wearing a fat lip and a bloody ear, then returned his gaze back to the two women on the road. He would have to decide
quickly, he didn’t believe the yanks were here but his instinct said they would be soon the sky was brightening, sunrise was close.
“Poke,” Bueller said still eyeing the black mirror.
Poke walked over, Bueller spoke quietly in his
ear. “continue the march, if any Yanks see you let out a rebel yell, you hear me?”
It had been Bueller’s deepest desire to rebel yell his way straight through Pennsylvania, he gave the scowling smile when he and his men went
caterwallin during a skirmish against the state militia the other day.
“What you planin, Colonel?”
“I am takin a few men with me, see what this is really about.” he said raising the object with the color picture of the Rocky Mountains. “I can’t
begin to say what these women have given us, but I think their hostage there might be hiding
something.”
“Does look like they worked the fella over.”
“You can say that again. I’ll leave a guard out front one of the houses on....” he said getting out a sketch he drew of the map before leaving. “Washington
street.”
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He nodded in the direction of the road out of the woods into Gettysburg. Poke looked quickly an
“If you see them Yanks but they don’t see you, send someone back here double quick for me quietly as you can.”
“Yes, Colonel.”
Poke got on his horse and shook Buellers hand, you didn’t salute in battle or in hostile territory so as to avoid being a notch on a damn sniper’s rifle.
Bueller walked to his horse and handed the reins to his second in command, giving him a few quick
words that Poke couldn’t hear.
He gathered his son, and two privates, one still in his mid teens. Bueller spoke a quick word to the ladies and his son, who immediately took charge of the horse carrying the prisoner, taking him off the animal and tying it to the tree. The prisoner made no fuss, and even though blindfolded and beaten, he still held his head high as if in defiance as he was lead away.
Once the road had been cleared of hostage and
horse Poke gave the gesture to continue.
Poke lead the column onward looking back in an
attempt to see where The Colonel was heading, but
the trees in the woods hindered his sight. He never saw Colonel Bueller again.
Exhaustion ebbed at Dig like a bad hang over from his drinking days, he had no idea he was at Gettysburg and that soon the battle for it would begin. He just kept focus on tracking AM through the forestry landscape at a considerable distance but close enough to almost catch words being
spoken which kept fading in and out with the
noises of the forest but he never lost them
completely.
He found AM and his three captors after a few
hours of zig zagging across southwestern
Pennsylvania.He had almost walked upon them by
accident, a word was about to escape from his lips when he saw it was just a few women that looked as harmless as the woman he tipped his hat to
before arriving at the dig sight. But then he saw AM, tied to a tree.
“That can’t be good.” he said to himself creeping behind a tree before they saw him.
He waited until dark in hopes they would go to
sleep, but only one of them ever did and for only a few hours. The other two, a scrawny young women who held a rifle and an older
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woman who was within arms reach of an ax leaning on the large pine tree she sat under, kept constant guard.
They made a small fire and cooked a small meal
prayed over it and ate with out giving any to his friend. Dig rode Sugarfoot a distance back in
hopes of not stirring up the other horse with a whinny. He quietly walked back within twenty
yards of their camp, with the same knife AM
traded to Danny for some granola bars, in hopes of cutting him loose getting the Qpad and cube and ripping the hell out of there.
But they never even went to the bathroom, except when the third woman Ashley,he thought he heard another woman call her, was awake again.
And
they wouldn’t even go in the woods to do it. Dig realized one morning when he saw one of them
squat he turned away quickly embarrassed thought they didn’t know he was there. Or did they? They were in a hurry.
He didn’t think so, but they were traveling in such a way that they were afraid someone might, they were on alert as a precaution. He heard them
constantly praying, and praising God when cursing the ‘Federals’ or men in particular. They reminded Dig of the televangilsts that would rant about gay marriage or gender equality causing god to take a
Early, before sunrise the next day they continued going southwest in the most erratic way ever
conceived. He was relieved when they stopped,
dig dropped down and laid still for the longest time. He had moved only to to take out his Qpad and look at the archives of The Daily News AM
downloaded on all the Qpads.
He looked upon the newspaper headline from the
summer of 93 when Club Enlightenment was
destroyed. Dig fell asleep staring at the picture with the headline ‘Inferno’ and three dead. There he saw her face on the newspaper, he felt his heart squeeze as he fell asleep and dreamed of her.
He was bar tending at Club Enlightenment again, the bass was deep and rhythmic. People were
dancing shoulder to shoulder and cheek to cheek.
He was serving drinks to a big crowd he kept
looking around for Marisa, but he only ever caught a few glimpses of her face in the crowd which
looked over flowing.
“Somebody’s gonna call the fire chief and have us arrested.” Dig said when he saw Joey the bouncer 70
“We’ll get Mr Soprano to take care of it.” Joey the bouncer said with a wink as he held the same
college punk that was taunting Maya in a loose
choke hold.
“Can I have your autograph, Mr Cruise?” the
college punk said with a pencil and pad in hand.
“Have you seen Marisa!” Dig shouted over the
music which seemed to roar right into his ears.
Joey smiled and spoke but, Dig couldn’t make out what he said.
“What!” he shouted.
But Joey didn’t hear him, he walked away
escorting the college punk to the exit. The people at the bar began shouting for drinks and waving money to get his attention.
“Relax! Here check this out!” Dig grabbed a few bottles and began to juggle them.
He did it flawlessly until the DJ was told to turn it up.
“Hey Mother Goose turn it up, I said turn it up!”
said the voice of the last woman he would ever
love.
He saw her head up the cat walk, wearing her
oversized black and purple Dr Seuess hat. He
began to drop bottles, one then two, then the third and fourth. Each crashing loudly in his ears, a large noise of wind shields cracking, bottles exploding from gun shots, glass ashtrays shattering into millions of shards.
But no one heard, they were cheering wildly for Marisa as the bass continued to thump. She smiled sexily down upon everyone, and looked at Dig. He was trying to remember what song she was about
to sing, it seemed so important to him that he didn’t notice she was looking at him.
He still had a poor memory it seemed, it was a life changing night for him and he couldn’t remember the name of the song he first heard her sing. He felt the rage bubble inside of him like foam on a fresh beer.
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“Dig,” she said.
Everyone was silent, the music even stopped. Dig looked up and finally saw her again even if only in a dream.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” she said simply.
“But right now you have to...”
The rhythmic beating started up again, and the
crowd began cheering wildly once more. Dig
leaned forward trying to catch the last word. He watched her mouth form words, he kept shouting
what at the top of his lungs but the sound was puny compared to the house music. He squinted at her lips forming the words.
“Wake up...” he mumbled to himself his legs
covered with leaves and dirt and sleeping in a
dense fog still holding the Qpad which it self had into sleep mode.
His dream mind and waking mind finally clicked
on the words wake up, and his eyes shot open. He looked up over the mound of dirt he hid behind while the women made there camp last night.
“Shit.” they were gone already, but Dig could still hear the voice of their leader Ashley it was fading fast unlike the fog which didn’t lift until late that afternoon, making tracking them with out using the
SirDoyle app tough. He didn’t dare risk being seen with it out in the open. Each night was the same, a quick meal and something like a catnap for Ashley, then they would wake her up a few hours before
sunrise and begin their journey again.
Except for the last night,the skinny woman
Rebecca, with rifle in hand was sitting on a log and knitting when she suddenly dropped her
needles and looked south into the darkness. Rosa got up, taking the ax with her. Dig saw a chance to go in and save the day, Rebecca and Rosa’s backs were to the rifle and Ashley was asleep.
But before he could move, Rebecca had grabbed the rifle and began climbing up the tree she was knitting under and was obscured from Digs view
by the foliage. Rosa went and gathered there
belongings by light of the small flames of their campfire. A moment later Rebecca had climbed
back down an nimbly as a cat despite her long
dress and woke Ashley up, they quickly spread dirt on the fire untied their captor from a tree and placed him back upon a horse still blindfolded.
Dig re mounted Sugarfoot and stayed behind the
women who followed a column of rebel soldiers
until the sun rose before they spoke to them. A gray coated soldier accepted their
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rifle and ax and talked to an officer that spoke to
another officer with an ugly deep facial scar.
Scarface and a couple of soldiers, some who
looked like they still belonged in junior high, took AM and the women to a townhouse at the far
corner of a street two hundred yards away.
Dig tied his horse to a tree and left his Qpad in his back pack with Sugarfoot. He stayed out of sight until the lines of soldiers were back in the thicket of woods. He stopped short halfway across the
road when he realized he just watched enemy
troops marching outside a town in Pennsylvania.
“Gettysburg. Shit this just keeps getting better and better.” he said running faster with his hand upon his Stetson.
He looked back behind him to see the tree he tied Sugarfoot too, it looked like it had taken a blast from dynamite, but Dig knew it had been a
lightning strike, he could not see it now though. It was deeper in the woods but the tree’s burnt bark and the surrounding debris wood be easy to miss if you didn’t pay attention. Though a passing regiment could find it by chance.
“To late to worry about that now.” he said holding his hand on the revolver that sat in the pocket of his duster.
The town looked deserted, as he raced towards he the same street as AM and Scarface he looked to his right at a large mansion. On its front yards sat a horse almost completely white.
“Almost Shadowfax.” he said with a nervous
laugh.
He made his way passed the wide clearing and
mansion slowing his run to a trot as he steadied himself as he entered the Gettysburg. He looked up at one of the houses that lined the road coming into town, a window shutter clapped shut curtly at him.
He was within fifty feet of the house when
suddenly the front door opened and one of the
rebel soldiers stepped out of onto its porch looking opposite Digs direction.
Dig immediately looked to his left and dove into an alleyway that laid between a dentist/general store and a shoe shop. Dig fell on the cobble stone ground as soundlessly as he could despite hitting his shin on a loose stone.
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He stood up quickly and ran around the corner
rubbing at his shin peeking back around waiting to
see if the soldier saw him and was coming. Dig took a deep breath of relief when no one came
running.
He walked back over and peeked back out onto the street, he hadn’t seen Dig. The rebel was absently scratching at a mosquito bite nestled in his beard which was just some black curls on his chin and cheeks. Dig was shocked to see a young boy
wearing farmer overalls with a gray slouch hat
sitting squarely upon his head toting a rifle,a boy who would have been in high school spending his
off time playing video games and taking
pretentious selfies for Facebook if he had been born in the late twentieth century.
Dig slipped back into the alley, his body trembling from the near miss and dive. He took a deep
breath, and made his way around the back, which was not being guarded, he assumed the boy soldier out front would stay put. He heard Scarface say he would leave someone out front incase the Yankees came, which they would.
“If this is really Gettysburg.” he said hoping it wasn’t but knowing it was.
Colonel Bueller brought the prisoner and his men into the kitchen of the town house, the kitchen was
in the middle of breakfast, when the owners suddenly left. A few strips of bacon sat on a nearly empty plate in a coagulated pool of fat. The smell of fried eggs still hung in the air making the soldiers stomach rumble angrily.
The leader of the female trio was in the kitchen, Bueller could not coax Ashley from leaving but he insisted her companions go outside and keep his sentry company, the soldiers laughed, though
Bueller said it absently.
“Go, sisters. I’ll be staying behind to make sure the good colonel here doesn’t forget us.” she said with a sweet but cunning smile.
Bueller looked up from the Qpad at her smile that was poisonous daggers. He returned her smile with his infamous scowling smile.
“You have nerve, missy. I don’t forget friends.”
She still had that beautiful smile that was
dangerous, she was not interested in making
friends.
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“I have the Lord on my side, Colonel Bueller. Do
The young soldiers gasped at her profane language.
The Colonel had heard worse in the Mexican
cantina’s from the whores during the last war. The things he heard would’ve made these boys shit
peach pits as his daddy used to say.
Bueller laughed, Ashley understanding the laugh was not at her simply nodded her head.
“You would have made a fine soldier,” he said
“now lets meet our new friend here.”
The Colonel’s son grabbed AM by the collar of his fraying shirt and pushed him up against a wall. He handed his rifle to one of the privates, and
removed his blind fold and ordered him to turn
around. AM faced his captors with a feeling of
deep dread, he looked upon the officer with the deep scar on his face.
“What’s your name?” Bueller asked
AM remained silent.
“Answer, the colonel.” said the soldier poking AM
roughly in the chest with his rifle.
AM’s continued silence began to wear on
Bueller’s patience.
Perhaps,” said Ashley wearing that sinister smile again. “you should be more assertive, Colonel
Bueller”
She walked towards The Colonel and tittered
aloud, which ran up his spine like nails on a
chalkboard.
“What would you suggest, ma’am? Flogging and
nailing him to a cross!” he said glaring at her.
Ashley bent down and lifted her skirt, showing her well sculpted calves, one of the soldiers coughed nervously at the display of her shapely legs.
Ashley, however, was not flirting with the soldiers but removing an ancient dagger six inches in length from handle to tip tied with rawhide to her leg.
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The dagger was inlayed with oak and had a cross carved into it on both sides, the metal of the blade, although dull in color, was razor sharp. She held
up the dagger as if holding the one true cross. The Colonel felt his anger melt away, torture might be the only thing to get him to talk, Bueller was
reluctant to do so with his son watching.
So he turned to AM.
“Sir, you’d better believe me when I say I can have my men take you as prisoner of war. However I
can not stay this woman’s hand from doing her
Christian duty.”
AM’s heart began to pound on the inside of his
chest when he saw the dagger, his stomach was
filling with acid when Ashleys smile deepened. He could feel the sweat soaking his skin as it poured off him in waves, he could smell the stink of it as he waited for whatever she would do to him, still he kept silent.
“Come on, now” Bueller said amazed by the mans
courage despite his height.
“Judging by your getup your just another carpet bagger with too much time and too much money,
crying about nigger independence and nigger
rights. Your just a Yankee chicken.”
The man had courage, but Bueller didn’t have time for admiration. The feeling that a battle was
coming kept pressing at his gut, he fingered the Confederate half dollar that sat in his pocket. He hoped the man would get angry and run at the lips, but he wouldn’t be galled.
AM glared into Buellers eyes, trying to keep his tongue from letting loose. Bueller stared back into the eyes of his prisoner feeling an odd sense of deja vu.
“Dad...uh colonel, you OK?” his son asked
watching the exchange closely.
“Whats your name?” he said ignoring his son.
“Where do I know you?”
Dig crept quietly down the alley towards the house AM had been taken too. He removed his Colt from his duster pocket and held it up with the hammer pulled. The buildings from behind had similar
stone work, each window he came upon he made
sure to carefully look in before passing by. His fingers gripped the revolver tightly as he slid along the wall on his haunches.
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It was the last house on the corner they were in, the windows to the kitchen were closed but the
shutters were still open, an oak door that led to the kitchen from the alley was ajar. Dig leaned in
towards the glass of the window and looked, everyones back was to him except AM, who was partially obscured from his sight by the tall stature of Scarface.
He counted five, including Ashley, who was
holding up her dagger as if showing it to Scarface or AM. The door to the next room was wide open, he could see right out into the street at the front of the house. Dig’s muscles tensed and his stomach knotted at the thought of having a shoot out with soldiers. He was out numbered and out gunned, he couldn’t go in there guns blazing.
But if the battle for Gettysburg was about to start, he could use that as a distraction and somehow
recover the equipment and AM.He watched Ashley
approach AM still holding up the knife, before he could act, a thick southern accent filled his ears.
“Be much obliged, mister if ya drop yer shooter there.”
Dig turned slowly and faced the young boy who
was doing sentry duty, with him were two of the women from Ashley’s group. The boy soldier had
a sizable chunk of chew lodged in his cheek, and spat out a long stream before speaking again.
“Guess I owe ya’ll ladies thanks for checkin my parrymeters for me. Now I aint gonna ask ya agin mister, drop it.”
Dig seeing the uselessness in fighting dropped his revolver, and placed his hands up.
“Whatcha doin,”the soldier asked angrily.
“keep’em down, trying to signal the federals? You a Yankee?”
“Fuck you I’m a Phillies fan.” Dig said
nonchalantly.
The boy, not understanding in the least shoved Dig away from the window with the butt of his rifle.
“Hey Colonel Bueller. We got us a Yankee spy.”
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The boy soldier said excitedly as he pushed Dig in through the back door into the kitchen. Bueller and the others looked at the new arrival. AM inhaled
“So you know this man then?” The Colonel said
noticing AM’s shifting breath. “Perhaps he could tell us more about this little gadget. How bout it big guy? What is this?” he asked gesturing at Dig with the Qpad as he approached.
“That? Oh its just something you use to watch
things.”
“Such as?” Bueller asked believing he might find out.
“Such as when you go fuck yourself.Or when I
wipe my ass with that flag of yours, I’d be suing the Dukes of Hazard if I were you.”
Bueller took two steps over to Dig and smacked
him with an open hand across his face so hard his head turned, the sound echoed loudly in Dig’s ears.
An inferno of rage built slowly inside of him, he could feel his blood boiling in his vains like an over cooked soup.
Dig saw AM, and the wary look he had in his eyes.
Dig smirked at him, and faced Bueller again with
his fists balled up, trying to remember they had rifles, he still had the knife though, Scarface didn’t
have him searched.
“You hit hard. Too bad the Yankees are gonna hit you a lot fuckin harder.” he said with a smirk that was more like sneer.
The soldiers immediately raised their rifles at Dig, before Bueller could respond the sound of a horse coming to a halt and the shout of a soldier sent The Colonel out of the room. Dig gazed to his left to see who arrived, but one of the soldiers standing behind him smacked his the back of his head with his rifle almost knocking him down again.
Dig straightened up as his internal temperature rocketed into the stratosphere. He turned to face the soldier that was a few years older than the soldier who captured him. The soldier quickly
rammed the butt end of his rifle into his gut, Dig fell to his hands and knees coughing and hacking.
“Not so mouthy, now are ya?!” said the soldier
standing over him.
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“That’ll teach’em, Corporal.” said the younger boy
Bueller returned a moment later, and looked down quickly at Dig who was still coughing and on all fours.
“It’s OK, colonel.” said the Corporal. “smart
mouthin was all.”
Bueller took his son aside after ordering the other two boys to keep an eye on the blond galoot.
“Francis, they spotted Union Cavalry heading our way.” he told his son.
“How many,Pa?” Francis asked.
Pa? The Colonel couldn’t remember the last time he heard his son say that to him. But he was no boy now, he had become a man as Bueller had, through war.
“Not many, we still got the numbers and they
haven’t seen us yet.”
“Then lets go!” Francis said with relish. “Lets give it to’em in their yard for once.”
“Francis, I want you to stay and guard these two fellas.” he said placing a gentle hand on his son’s shoulder.
It bothered him to ask his son to stand guard, and it troubled him for the rest of his days when he saw how crest fallen his son was to be asked such duty when a battle was about to begin.
“Colonel?” he asked.
“Son, I know. But you must understand the
situation,” he said holding up the Qpad. “you know our side hasn’t been doin very well overall.”
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And he did know that, he was a warrior like The Colonel. And any good warrior could see when the war was going badly. They had many victories but they came at a greater and greater cost each time.
No matter how hard the south fought and
sacrificed, the north had more men and more supplies. He, like his father, knew this was about nagging their way to independence, not an
annihilation of the Union, but perhaps this dark
“I want you keep a close eye on this,” he said
handing the Qpad to him. “And don’t let the big fella get knocked around too much. He seems to be the talker, he’ll have a heck of a time talkin if he’s spittin up teeth.”
“Right, colonel. What about the women? If the
Yanks is comin should I...”
“You shall do nothing.” Ashley said “I plan on
staying here. How ever I would kindly ask if
someone could take my companions to safety.”
“Your welcome to stay, ma’am. I can not sacrifice man power to escort your friends. Just send them north of town quickly. Colonel Leventhorpe is there, tell him I sent you.” Bueller said.
The Colonel turned to his son again.
“I wouldn’t ask you to sit one out if it wasn’t important. I’ll leave the one that found him with you, if the shit hits the fan don’t fight the Yanks, just take the prisoners and the mirror to General Pettigrew. Thats an order, son.”
Bueller stood still for a moment, wondering if this would be the battle the history books would
highlight for the Confederacy as the turning point when great wrongs were finally righted. He looked proudly at his son, and saluted him despite the dangers of doing so when Yanks could be near by.
The Colonel left after scribbling a note for
Ashley’s companions. Francis watched his father leave with one of the privates. He then turned his attention to Dig still kneeling on the floor catching his breath.
“Got anything else you wanna jaw bout?”
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“You got two on me, mother fucker.” Dig said
rubbing his stomach with a chuckle despite the
hurt.
“But I guess thats my own fault.” Dig said eyeing AM. “I got another friend, he’s a smart ass too.”
“That a fact?” Francis said walking behind Dig not feeling threatened by him anymore.
“Yeah, he knows him.” Dig said gesturing with his head towards AM.
“Oh, yeah? Whats the fella’s name?” Francis asked as Dig laughed again, AM was stone silent.
The boy soldier just shook his head with a small smile.
“I think he got toys in the ol attic, Corporal.” Both the soldiers were laughing, Ashley was watching the blond haired one closely with predatory eyes.
“Crow T Robot.”
“What the hell kinda name is that?” asked the
younger soldier still laughing at Dig’s mania.
“Yeah, he said lots of funny shit.You wanna hear the funniest thing he ever said?” Dig asked still rubbing his stomach and his left side.
“Yeah, sure.”
Dig removed the knife that had belonged to a friend from an alternate universe from the pocket of his duster and stabbed downward on Francis’
foot severing three of his toes.
“HIKEEBA!” Dig shouted.
The soldier screamed loudly as his bare foot
sprayed blood on the floor, the younger soldier raised his rifle at Dig when AM jumped on his
back. The boy began to twist and turn wildly
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in panic, still holding the carbine. AM placed and arm lock around the soldiers throat and began to squeeze while covering the soldiers eyes with the other arm.
Ashley, raised her fancy dagger and charged at AM
with a scream of rage, however because of her
overzealousness she succeeded in only impaling
her self on the boy soldiers bayoneted rifle that was swinging wildly. Her scream of rage, became a shriek of pain when the soldier, not knowing he had Ashley stuck to his rifle, pulled the rifle out savagely causing the blade to scramble her insides giving her a quick but painful death.
Dig was still half kneeling, despite the corporal missing half his foot, he was still able to hold onto the rifle and keep Dig from standing. AM had
been smashed up against the wall twice, but still held on firmly despite the second hit which was bone rattling. AM could hear the soldier gasping, it was just a wrestling trick Quake had preformed
numerous times when rough housing with AM
when they were children.
Quake though would just have a loose grip on
AM’s neck but would cover his eyes just for the thrill, AM however put as much pressure has he
could on the boy soldiers throat. He knew the
soldiers frantic attempts to get him of his back would only knock him out quicker. After almost a minute the boy began to bend over as if he was
bowing to a revered guest, the weight AM added
caused them both to fall forward and directly into Dig and the other soldier.
Because of the collision, Dig was finally able to stand up though the corporal still held on to
Richmond rifle. They each had a hand on the it as they tried to twist it out of each others grip, the corporal tried to push the rifle down, in an effort to turn the bayoneted end of it on his prisoner. Dig leaned forward, pushing up in an effort to aim the rifle away as his left hand began sliding down the stock of the weapon.
AM and his captor had fallen onto the floor,
knocking the last bit of consciousness from the
soldier as AM got up a deafening bang shook the room. In the haze of oily gun smoke AM watched
the soldier stagger towards AM one hand was
pressed to his stomach. Dig stood behind the
Corporal looking ashen, through the haze of gray smoke, AM thought he looked like a ghost.
Dig still held the rifle just above its stock with his left hand, his ring finger had pressed against the trigger. The soldier reached out to AM, as if in search of a cure from his magic mirror. The soldier fell on his side, with a quick exhale and released his stomach, revealing a charred hole in his shirt that was oozing blood.
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The Richmond slipped to the floor from Dig’s
hands which felt like blocks of ice, his stomach was see sawing he could taste acidic bubbles work
their way up his throat. Blood began to spill out onto the floor in a sicking puddle of crimson. AM
began searching the room for the Qpad and cube.
“Dig,” AM said coughing through his name from
the smoke of burning gun oil. “we have to go.”
The town of Gettysburg was still quiet, AM was
afraid the rifle shot would be heard by one of the armies causing a premature start of the battle. Dig
stood still staring at the dead Corporal, fighting the urge to vomit.
“Dig,” AM said recovering the items, still sitting on the kitchen’s rich oak table, he had to step over the dead woman who still had a look of rage upon her face despite the glassy dead marbles her eyes had become.
AM shoved the items into his pack which had
fallen to the floor during the scuffle, he pulled the bloody knife stuck in the floor boards and wiped it clean with a towel sitting on the table. Dig was still and looked frozen AM stood in his view and spoke his name loudly.
“Dig, come on!” he said.
“I didn’t... I don’t...” he stammered.
Not far outside the front door, AM heard the frantic approach of a horse clopping loudly. AM simply
took a grip on Dig’s sleeve and pulled as he used all his strength to run, after a few seconds, Dig realized what was going on and no longer needed pulling. They ran out the back door into the alley away from the direction of the approaching
hooves. They reached the end of the alley before
they almost split up with Dig running to the right and AM heading left knowing there would not be any soldiers there until late afternoon.
“NO! This way, I left my pack with Sugarfoot!”
Dig said heading north.
AM felt dread, the Union regiments would be
approaching town from that direction, and
probably at that very moment. Before AM could
say anything, a large brown horse with a broad
muscular chest appeared seemingly from nowhere
in front of Dig, almost knocking him down.
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The horse’s mane was long and wild, it whined
nervously at almost trampling Dig. Upon the horse sat a Federal officer with thick chestnut hair and an impeccably trimmed Van Dyke on a handsome
face. He had yellow straps on his shoulders
signifying his rank as general, he did not reach for his fire arm noticing immediately the two men in front of him were unarmed.
“Who are you?” the general asked shortly.
AM was standing beside Dig looking up at the
general as he answered.
“We live outside of town, the rebels are that way.”
he said pointing in the direction Scarface had went.
“Rebel scum. Leave town now!” he commanded
and trotted his horse off towards the town’s center.
Dig started to run again into the forest as AM
followed right behind hoping Dig remembered
were he had left Sugarfoot. They entered the
woods and ran for just a minute or two before they came upon a tree which looked broken and burned, but AM didn’t see the horse. Dig and AM stood
looking around, Dig walked a few feet and stopped.
“Shit.” he muttered as he looked upon Sugarfoot laying on her side still as a rock.
Four or five bloody holes from rifle fire went up the creatures neck and head, Dig’s pack though
was still there though. AM hadn’t noticed, his eyes were drawn to the southern side of town, he
watched with his jaw dropped as a thousand rebel soldiers marched towards town. The sound of
snapping branches about fifty yards behind him
caused him to turn and see Dig and a line of blue coated Federal soldiers with rifles raised heading directly towards them. AM was frozen as he
watched one of America’s most significant battles
in its history was starting and they were in the middle of it.
Dig stood up with his pack in hand and noticed the look upon AM’s face and turned to look behind him.
“Oh fuck!” he said wide eyed.
“COMPANY, FIRE AT WILL!!!” screamed an
officer nearby.
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Dig heard the command and ran for AM, this time having to grab his sleeve and pull him along.
Before they ran ten feet the crack of rifle fire began, AM slipped at the sound and almost fell
down. Dig still held him by the sleeve though and pulled him up before he could. He put the pack
over his shoulder as the footing became less rocky.
They didn’t look around, just running straight along the lines of soldiers that may or may not have been aiming at them. AM was running nearly at his side when another volley of shots rang out, Dig screamed through gritted teeth as an immediate sense of burning exploded at the shoulder holding the pack causing him to fall to one knee but he bounced back up in flash before AM could help
him.
They ran for nearly twenty minutes as more rifles and what sounded to Dig like bombs exploding
roared through out the country side. They slowed down to a heavy jog when the sounds of war faded to the sound of distant thunder. Dig began to feel the pain when the adrenaline of his running began to ebb, he hadn’t run that fast since his track days.
They both stopped at the same time with out a
word, breathing heavily with bodies soaking in
sweat and feeling as if they were being slowly
roasted over a fire. The humidity in the forest was as thick as the bushes and trees that grew around them.
“Are you hit?” AM asked as he rubbed at the
burning stich at his side.
Dig looked at his shoulder and saw a patch of red that was soaking the strap on his pack and placed his hand under his duster and pulled it out with bloody digits. He could only nod, as he dropped the pack to the ground and slid down a nearby pine tree remembering he had killed someone. The
nausea returned, thought whether it was because of his wound or the soldier he just killed, he didn’t know. AM walked over to Dig to help him up, he
held out his hand but Dig hadn’t noticed.
“I killed him.”
AM put his hand down and remained silent, though AM didn’t believe the death of that soldier was intentional,Dig was remorseful even if he didn’t realize the soldier would have killed him just as quick and with out the guilt. AM raised his hand again to help Dig up.
“You can’t blame yourself, he was a soldier. He would have killed you.”
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“And you, too.” Dig said giving AM his good hand and slowly rose using the pine tree for balance.
Dig removed his duster and shirt to reveal an
shallow but bloody groove that started at the left shoulder blade and stopped at the top of his
shoulder were a long black splinter stuck out. AM
rooted in Dig’s pack and removed a pair of
tweezers, and a few match sticks.
“You’ve got some shrapnel in your shoulder, it’s not too deep. You want to bight down...”
“No, just pull the damn thing.” he said feeling angry and upset.
“Dig,” AM said lighting a lighting a match and
setting it under the tips of the tweezers. “he
probably would have died in the battle. Every
soldier in the room most likely had or would have died...”
“Yeah, I guess you would know best. But what if your wrong?” Dig said turning his back to AM and getting on one knee to account for AM’s height. “I killed Marisa, if I had been like you and just stayed in that night, everything would be different now. I let my emotions get in the way, I got pissed off at that fucking guy and Scarface, and now I have a persons blood all over me.”
Dig lowered his head, looking down on the soft dirt of the ground thinking about that last good sleep he ever had.
“I need to go home,AM. I’m not a great man like you, I can’t be like you, ignoring my heart for the greater good. I was so fucking jacked I didn’t care he had a gun longer than his friggin arm, I just wanted to knock his teeth out. You’re right to push others away, can’t get close to people in this
business. I should have done what you would have done when I met her, ignore my feelings and worry about the cube. I got close and she’s dead.”
AM felt hurt by what he had said, but before he had run into Sister Eva and the children, he had be very cold in demeanor to friends and family. His mother and Angie most especially. AM blew out the
match, infection in this day and age would kill quickly and the journey home with out horses
would be a long one.
AM could sense the downward spiral his friend
was going through because he felt he wasn’t good enough thanks to the example given by Abraham
Lincoln’s sixth cousin and namesake, he would
have to tell Dig about Angie.
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“Dig, there’s something you should know.” AM
gripped the tweezers and pulled out the black
splinter that had caused the injury.
“What, your actually Jeff Davis’ cousin.” Dig said looking back over his shoulder with a smirk.
But AM hadn’t heard him, he was staring intently at the object he pulled out of Dig. To him it didn’t look like the fragmented remains of a lead pellet or
wood. The piece that stuck out of Dig had a curve to it that was unnatural. AM continued staring for a moment, then his eyes opened wide in revelation.
“What is it?” Dig asked seeing the alarm on his face.
AM didn’t answer, he dropped the tweezers and
went straight to the pack that still lay next to the pine tree. He kneeled down in front of it, and saw a charred hole just a half inch in diameter on the packs top left. AM opened the pack and looked
inside. Dig had gotten up and stood over his
shoulder looking down. The cubes were
undamaged however both Qpads had suffered a
hit.