The Beliefs Of War
Olivia fell into the river, and tried not to scream from the shocking cold. She could not scream though, she must never ever scream. They might find her, at best torture her, at worst they would kill her.
They would certainly kill Gabriel, he wasn't young like her. He had a history of running away, this was his, and this was her last chance.
They had to be free.
"We don't stop running, we keep going," Gabe had said, "If they catch us Olivia they will not skip the chance to kill us, do you understand?"
"Y-yes,"
The plan had seemed so surreal at the time, so far from thought. She had never thought about running away. Her life had been no good though, mother died giving birth, brother died of disease. Her father had been shot...trying to do what she was doing now. That was the only reason she never ran, never tried. But then again, she had no reason to stay.
Gabe had always been like a father to her, he's the one who convinced her.
"They're fighting for us in the North; all we have to do is get to the north."
Dogs howled and Olivia felt her heart race. No! She would not go back; she was done with the cotton, done with the drivers!
No more slavery!
Gabe dragged her onto the muddy banks. They were the only two left now. They had been a group of six once. Olivia wondered if the others had made it when they were separated or if they had been captured, already on their way back to the plantation...
She won't go back, she will never go back.
A door opens in a darkened house, fifty feet or so from the fiver bed. One singular torch lights up the night.
Olivia almost screams.
"Shush child!" Gabe hushes, slowly advancing on the house. He has a knife, and it frightens her. Gabe wouldn't kill someone would he?
"Where have you been?!" a voice demands behind the harsh light of the lantern after they get close enough. "You were supposed to be here last night!"
She recognizes the voice, it belongs to the son of the general store owner. Aiden right? What was he doing up so late at night? Gabe said there was someone on the other side of the river who would help them, but she never imagined it to be someone as young as her.
Gabe was wondering the same thing, "There were complications, where is your father?"
Aiden lowered the lantern, the light casting harsh shadows across his face, "There were complicatoins" he said slowly.
Gabe curses, tugging on Olivia's arm, "We have to keep going then, come on child-"
A dog howls in the distance.
Aiden's eyes flash, "There is no time! Get inside!"
"I'm sorry boy but this wasn't in the plan-"
"So you'd rather go back then?!"
There is a moment of tense silence, the dog again howling. But this time there are the shouts of men, people, out on the hunt.
Gabe curses, again. "Fine," he follows Aiden into the house, ushering Olivia ahead of him, "I hope you know what you are doing. Our lives are at stake."
"I've seen my father do it before; I know what needs to be done." Aiden shoves the kitchen table aside, and moves the chairs. He lifts a panel in the flooring, reaching his hand out to Olivia, "Come on this way. It'll be okay..."
She hesitates but takes his hand, allowing him to lead her to a very steep set of stairs. It's dark in the hole, and she can't see much inside. But there is the rich aroma of spices and other things like sweet sugar, or strong ale. "What's down there?"
"It's my father's 'cellar'," the boy explains, "At least one of them, the spices will cover your scent. Now hurry we don't have a lot of time!"
Olivia drops down into darkness, Gabe falling in shortly after. Then Aiden is closing the door, and there is the sound of the wooden tables and chairs scraping back over. Then nothing, just black silence.
"Gabe what do we-"
"Shhh," he soothes. But he is tense; Olivia can feel him stiff and rigid as he held her.
There is a violent pounding on the door it makes her jump in fright, and want to cry. Through the cracks in the floor, Olivia sees Aiden relight the lantern. She hears the door open...
"Reverend?" Aiden says almost sleepily, as if he had just woken up.
"Where is your father?" the intruder demanded.
"Out of town, he's over in Sandersville; my sister has gone into labor. He won't be back until she delivers. What seems to be the problem?"
"A group of slaves escaped last night."
"Really?!"
"Yes, and we have reason to believe they crossed the river. Have any come through here?"
Aiden thought on it a moment, "I was hearing some noise earlier in the night, but I thought nothing of it. I assumed it was a varmint. "
"We are aware that your father is...kinder, to the lower class." Someone else snapped, "If he is hiding them-"
"What can my father hide if he is not here to hide anything to begin with?" Aiden demanded.
"Your home could be part of their escape route,"
"Ah yes, the supposed 'Underground Railroad'. I assure you Mr. Gregory, that freeing slaves is not good for my father's business. He does trade with all you after all. We may not all be able to afford a plantation, but we still get by the best we can. If my father is too busy freeing your slaves, he cannot very well make good business with you can he? You come here, in the middle of the night, and insult my father's good name! You sir, have some nerve. Perhaps it is you hiding slaves hmm?"
"Why you insolent little-"
"Enough Mr. Gregory!" the Reverend cut in, then "You speak on your father's behalf then?"
"We are hiding no slaves," Aiden said firmly, "Trust me, we will inform you if any more lost slaves pass through here."
"...Very well,"
There was a muffled voice from beyond the front door; Olivia only caught bits, something about 'scent' and 'trail'.
"They could have cut back to the river," Aiden suggested, "Followed it up to the railroad crossing. "
"They very well could have," the Reverend frowned. "I trust you will contact us with any new development?"
"On the word of God."
"Then, I bid you goodnight."
"Good luck in the chase Reverend."
The door closed and the voices receded, the lantern snuffed out...
Olivia didn't relax, her heart was pounding. What if they came back? What if they found them anyway? It was very late now, and she was exhausted, but fear and terror kept sleep at bay.
An hour passed. Maybe two...It was hard to tell in the dark.
The door opened, and Aiden dropped down, holding a candle.
"You are quiet a liar," Gabe said quietly. "I apologize for my attitude earlier."
"I wouldn't call it lying," Aiden reached above and brought down an armful of blankets and a basket, "I would consider it more of not revealing the whole truth. Here you must be cold."
Olivia took one of the blankets, "Then what would you think be truth?"
The brunet smiled, "I wasn't hiding slaves, I was hiding people."
The statement warmed her heart, and she leaned forward kissing him on the nose, "Thank you for protecting us. We understand that this comes at a great risk to you."
His face turns red in a warm heat, "I- well. We..." he shakes his head recovering, "It isn't right. What they...There is food in the basket." he climbs the stairs, "Get some rest, we have a long journey tomorrow."
Gabe smiles at her after the boy leaves, "We're be free of it all soon child. Just you wait."
Olivia settles into her blankets and lets sleep slowly take her, dreaming of the north and the promise it brings.
A canon fires and for a moment there is nothing but the ear splitting sound and the smoke in the air.
Gill is pelted with debris, all of it dirt, but still startling.
Then there is screaming, the haze clears and all Gill sees is a crater made by a canon ball, and a man clutching the area where his leg used to be. There is nothing but a mangled mess of bone and muscle blood is everywhere. There are other men to, but they are all dead, one of them his missing half of his face-
Gill turns his head away and try as he might he still vomits.
There is a rat in the trench with him; it sniffs the putrid pile of slightly digested food, before nibbling on some of it.
Gill vomits again.
The rat doesn't seem to mind.
"You alright son?" his captain asks.
Gill nods weakly, afraid that if he opens his mouth there will be more vomiting.
"I know this ain't as glorified as they say it should have been." the older male says, "But remember what we're fighting for."
Gill straightens his shoulders and returns his attention to the battle. No one if out in the field, it is suicide to go out there. You'd be caught between hundreds of guns on either side aided by dozens on canons. So there were only men, hundreds if not thousands on men, waiting in their trenches. They waited to take a shot; they waited for the canon to come-
They waited to die. But they all hoped to survive.
It used to be a farmer's field when Gill had first arrived, full and heavy with golden wheat. Now, now it was a cratered filled grave, with trampled down grass and dirt so red from blood it would ooze out like water. There was the smell of death and rot and gunpowder everywhere. He sadly never noticed it anymore, he became nose blind to it after the third week or so.
How long had he been out here?
Gill remembers when he first joined; the dreams of glory and victory were still fresh in his mind. He and his mates had been so thrilled to get their uniforms. They took a photo together...
Gill was the only one left now.
He remembers how his illusions were shattered like glass cutting down his dreams and beliefs of war. He remembers when it really changed.
He was in the trench, had he been in the same spot he was currently in? He didn't remember. You could still go out on the field then, the canons hadn't arrived yet.
Gill had spotted a Union soldier and had set his sights-
It was an old school mate. Harvey.
Gill's home town had been right on the war line. Half the town had been for the Union, the rest for the Confederates. A lot of the southern supports up and left, deeper down, to places like Georgia. His family had been one of those supporters.
He knew this boy, he knew his name.
They both had their guns aimed at each other and they both just froze. Because Harvey recognized Gill too. For two seconds, maybe three, they were two little boys again, who used to catch toads together, who went fishing, who put a spider in the teachers hair...
For two seconds...maybe three...
Then Harvey was shot.
Gill watched the buckshot go right through his throat, and the other male went down. Hands reaching weakly out, stretching, gasping, reaching for Gill. Then he was gone, the light snuffed out from his eyes, the little boy with the buck tooth and the freckles was gone. And the little boy who had been friends with him - the one with skinned knees and the habit of repeating the same word over and over- went with him...
That's when it changed for him.
This war wasn't glorious, this war wasn't for fame.
This war, this bloody civil war; was murder. Families were torn apart, brothers shot brothers, and innocents were killed. And old school mates?
They died.
And for what? So a couple of cotton and tobacco tycoons could keep their profits? So the south could keeps it slaves?
This is what he fought for?
Gill saw a head, someone bold enough to sneak a peek. He aimed his gun and didn't take a second look. Because Gill was afraid it might be someone he knew once, a very long time ago.
He fired his gun and sobbed.
Petra tried not to be sick.
The field hospital was a mess, the white tents flapped and twisted in the breeze, but it did little to sooth the scorching heat.
The wind was hot; the wind carried the smell of death and gun powder.
When Petra had volunteered for the war effort this was not what she imagined.
How long had she been here? A week? Two?
She still couldn't stomach it. Her apron was red, her dress was red. Her hands were red. None of them used to be, her apron had been white, her dress brown, her hands...clean. It got worse the longer she stayed. She could handle victims with fever, with sickness. But then there were those with injuries, who came in where their arms or legs a mangled bloody mass of something that used to be a limb.
She couldn't...
Another wagon pulls in, led by the famous Ellegaard. She goes out into the battle, day after day after day. Petra joins the group of other men and woman to carry the injured and the dying and freezes.
Confederates.
There are Confederate soldiers in the back on the wagon.
Ellegaard hopes off the front of the coach and see's her standing there. "Hop to it!"
"They're the enemy," Petra says quietly.
Ellegaard's eyes go soft, and she walked up to here, "You're new here aren't you?"
Petra slowly nods.
"What's your name?"
"Petra."
"Petra..." Ellegaard points, "Look at the men there, what differences to you see in them besides their uniforms? What everyone forgets is that these men, all of them, are our fellow countrymen. What everyone forgets, is that this war has split families. When they are sick and dying, it doesn't matter what side they chose, we help."
Petra looks at the last two men, almost similar in features and wonders if perhaps they are brothers, "How do you do it?" she asks softly.
The war nurse gives her a questioning look, "Do what?"
"How do you steel yourself against all this death, all this..." Petra gestures around, "You go out there, bring people back, and go out again. Not once have I seen you get sick or turn away or, or-"
"I'm here for something," The woman answers. "That's the only way to get through this. You can't just be here to help, you gotta be here for something."
"I don't understand,"
Ellegaard escorts Petra to a tent, "I'm here for a hope. I'm here doing what I do, that one day this war will be over, praying it be soon. I'm here," she pulls back the curtain, looking at all the sick and injured inside, a mix of south, north, a former slave. "I'm here, hoping to give these people a future."
Petra is silent.
"Tend to these men; all the while find what you are here for." Ellegaard pats her shoulder, "And you'll find you can face the worst this war has to offer." Then in a whirl of bloody cloth and frazzled hair, the woman was gone.
Feeling conflicted, and confused, Petra set her mind to tending the patients in her tent. Remembering all of Ellegaard's sayings as she worked.
Keep a smile.
"You're looking much better today; we'll have you out of here in no time."
Keep love.
"You're wife sends you a letter, you're lucky to have someone who cares so much!"
Keep hope.
"You'll be home soon!"
Fine your reason-
The chocolate skinned male gently grabbed her hand, Petra froze, startled by how warm it was. "Where am I?" he mumbled out.
Petra reached up, feeling the intense strength of heat stroke radiating off the skin, "You're in a field hospital, you're sick."
The youth, no older than she, shook his head, "No, I can't! I have to go back out there!"
"You'll die!" she said firmly.
His eyes opened to reveal honey amber orbs, "I'll die if we lose."
Petra sat down on the edge of the sheets, "What makes you think so?"
"If we lose, they'll take us back,"
"Us?"
He looked around the tent, Petra followed his glance, looking at all the other African Americans, "Us, their slaves," he practically spat the last word, "I will not go back!"
"Shhh!" Petra pushed him back down against the pillow, "Losing a battle does not lose the war."
"But it could-"
"But it won't."
He eyed her, "What makes you think so."
Petra paused, thinking on Ellegaard's words, "I have hope."
He stared, "What's your name?"
"Promise to stay and rest if I give it to you?" she asked as she rang out a wet cloth and set in on his forehead.
He thought on this, "Alright,"
"Petra."
The other relaxed against the cushions, "Petra," he tested, "Lovely name."
She was grateful the heat of the tent already coated her cheeks red, lest the blush would have been obvious, "Yours?"
He smiled, "Promise you'll come back to visit if I tell you?"
She returned the smiled, "Yes."
"Jesse,"
"I like it."
"Thank you," he yawned, the fatigue finally taking back hold, "I'm glad you have hope Petra," Jesse said softly, "It gives me hope too..." then he slipped off sleeping soundly.
Petra stared.
"It gives me hope too..."
She finally found out what she was here for.
Boxen Requested:
Is WW2 your fav history subject? Mine is the civil war. (pssst could you do one based on that era?) yiu had a lot of fun with this one and I think we all could tell definitely one of my favs thus far.
keep it up Silver!
(Yes WW2 is my favorite history subject btw. And in case not everyone has gotten the memo. I have heard the requests and the Heaven's Are Burning (Chapter 7) will be turned into a full fic.)
Author's Section:
*Keels over and dies* I am so sorry people, I am now a hundred percent out of order. My computer misplaced all the files containing the one shot prompts and I am recovering them slowly one by one. I'll try to find them as soon as I can, and do whatever I find first. Until I get this fixed I'll try to let you know what's next at the end of each fic.
Thanks so much again for your patience.
Coming Next: Aiden, Gill and Maya, in a hilarious predicament of being turned into hybrids. What kind? Stay tuned to find out!