Chapter Three: The Escape
I rubbed my eyes and looked around. Lee was in trouble. I wasn't going to let those bastards kill him, too. I grabbed Steroc's shoulder and got up. He looked up at me, confused and scared. I crouched down and stared at him right in the eye.
"Remember when we were kids and we played with those fake swords? And we used to smack each other in the head with them?" I asked. Steroc cocked his head back as if I were insane. I sighed and ran off to where I had dropped my shovel. I covertly gripped it, and a few feet away was Steroc's. I took his, too, and ran back to the rear of the truck. I tossed him a shovel, and he flinched as he caught it. "Well, I'm thinking shovels will hurt a bit more than phony swords." I smiled. Steroc still looked confused.
"… don't you think we should help Lee before we reenact our childhood?" Steroc asked me. I guess I had temporarily forgotten that Steroc wasn't the smartest out of the three of us. I raised my shovel as if I were going to hit him.
"No," I sighed. "Just watch and then follow."
I tiptoed to the front of the hovertruck and saw Lee with his hands in the air. A Confederate soldier was holding him at gunpoint. I checked to see if there was anyone else around, but that soldier was the only one there. For some reason, the other guards had left. I moved in with my shovel, knowing that I'd have to see the marine's face before I could deal any damage; his helmet was covering the top of his head.
Lee noticed me, and like an idiot, turned his head. I wasn't close enough yet. I switched my grip on the shovel, holding it like a spear. The marine started to turn my way, and when he saw me, backed up and got ready to fire. Lee was still holding his hands up.
I thrust the shovel forward, launching it towards the marine. Unfortunately, it hit him in the gut and bounced off his armor. It caused him to stumble, and he fell on his back as the rifle blast flew into the air. I jumped to get the shovel back, but his metal-coated leg stuck out and struck me in the side, causing me to flip over.
As I levitated over the shovel for a brief moment, I swung out my hand to grab it, but missed. I landed with a big thud! My arms and legs flailed, trying to scramble up and get my only weapon. The marine was starting to get up; I guess all that armor can be a bitch as well as a blessing.
But I knew I wouldn't reach my goal in time. I looked to my left; Lee still stood, but at least his hands were down. He wasn't looking at me this time, nor was he at the marine. I swung my head back around and watched Steroc plunge the tip of his shovel into the face of the soldier. I stopped dead in my tracks as the limbs of the marine ceased.
Steroc looked at me. "Like that?" he asked.
"Yeah," I said as I wiped my forehead. "Like that."
Lee looked behind him and then back to us. I nodded and signaled for Steroc to follow me. We all knew this wasn't the end. More soldiers would be on their way. The rifle blast was too loud to not be noticed. And even though they might think it was the soldier shooting one of us, it still would cause alarm.
We crept back to where Steroc and I had first witnessed the executions as well as the ill burials. There was no one in the graveyard. Not a soul. Steroc didn't waste time; he started down the hill, trying to keep his balance. Before I could even say anything, I heard the marines in the background.
They had found the body with the shovel in his face.
I grabbed Lee's hand and we tumbled down the hill, not trying to be fancy like Steroc. We came to a halt at the bottom, nearly slamming into a rather large headstone. Steroc joined us seconds later, and we all ran across the cement-congested field. I darted in and out of small pillars sticking out of the ground.
We came closer and closer to my mother's grave. And though I tried to keep the idea that the tears in my eyes were formed from the wind whipping my face, I knew that I was dreading the truth; that the sick, sick men had put a body with my mother. I was only feet away from it. I still remembered the dirt around that grave being moist. I nearly became sick.
I came to a stop and dropped to my hands and knees, ripping at the soil with my bare fingers. Steroc and Lee noticed that I had stopped running with them. They instantaneously turned around and grabbed me at both of my arms.
All I could do was resist. I had to. I needed to know who was lying with my mother. I needed to know if I had actually seen the Confederates throwing bodies into graves.
"There's no time, Thad! Come on! We have to go!" Lee pleaded. But I sniffed and struggled and nearly screamed.
"There they are!" a voice screamed in the distance. I looked up at the top of the hill. Killaghen was there, surrounded by several soldiers. Some were already on their way down. A few bullets whirred past us, and I quickly changed priorities.
As we ran further and further into the graveyard, I couldn't help but think of what I had done to my parents. Acted as if they were idiots. And when they had died, I showed almost no remorse. What was wrong with me? I felt like a victim of the system that surrounded me.
Perhaps we all were.
I whipped my head around one last time and saw as Killaghen approached my mother's grave. When I turned back around, I saw a Confederate vehicle on the other side of an approaching gate. We all had the same idea.
Steroc went straight for the driver's seat, and Lee jumped into the passenger's side. I slid open a side door and barreled in as a few gunshots smacked the side of the vehicle. Steroc hit the ignition button, and within seconds the well-sized craft was floating above the air and speeding off to wherever it took us. I took a few deep breaths as I slid the door closed. I threw my neck back, resting my head against the interior wall. Lee turned around to face me.
"You think they're tracking this thing?" he asked worriedly. "The Confederacy doesn't take a whole lot of chances, you know." I stared at him with disbelief.
"Didn't you see what they were doing back there? I'd say that's one big fucking risk, Lee." He stared at me, confused. Sure, he had been taken hostage, but he hadn't witnessed the executions.
"Damn it, man! They were killing people!" Steroc shouted. "They were blasting their heads off right in the middle of the cemetery!"
Lee slowly turned back around and shrunk into his seat. I got up on my knees and squeezed his shoulder. He took my hand and held it for a while. I put my other hand on Steroc's shoulder. We were in trouble. I doubted that the vehicle we were in had a tracker, but sure as hell the Confederates would be looking for it.
I crawled to the back and gazed out the window. There was no one here. We were driving deep into the mines, and by now, most of the workers had gone. Steroc slowed to a stop and turned the craft off. We sat for a few minutes in silence.
"What do we do now?" asked Steroc. Now, he was my best friend and all, but it was questions like those that made me want to punch him in the face.
"How the hell should I know?" I asked him. I was on the edge as much as he and Lee were. That wasn't the perfect moment to ask me to come up with a brilliant plan.
"You're the smart one, Thad," Steroc replied. Once again, wanted to punch him in the face.
"Sorry, Steroc, but I didn't bring my list of escape plans in case we killed a marine and stole a Confederate hovertruck." He rolled his eyes and beat his fist against the steering wheel.
But at that point I already knew what I had to do. No doubt the Confederates would eventually find the truck as well as our fingerprints and hair. And no doubt they would get our footprints from the graveyard…
That's when it hit me. I was stupid enough to claw at my mother's grave.
Of course I hoped that Killaghen would just think it a coincidence… but there was more than a likely chance that he would trace it back to me. Honestly, I felt like crying. Not only had I not listened to my father, but I was putting Lauren in danger.
My brain raced when the thought came through; how had my father known so much? I don't recall him having much military activity in his past, if any. I had to get to their house and look through my father's old tax forms to see if there were any military deductions. That would clear it up.
But I remembered something that turned my blood cold. The father of the family buying the house already had a key to the front door. The too-cute family was a lie; the father must have been a spy for the Confederacy.