Dark Chaos (# 4 in the Bregdan Chronicles Historical Fiction Romance Series) (65 page)

             
The official waved his hand for further attention.   “There is a report, not yet verified, that another five hundred will be released in a few days.”

             
More cheering met this announcement.  Carrie watched as the men slapped each other on their backs.  Groups of men were soon huddled together.  She was sure they must be talking about home and what they would do when they escaped the confines of the camp. 

             
The next three hours passed rapidly though Carrie battled anger and despair.  The men brought to them were, for the most part, far beyond her and Dr. Wild’s ability to save them.  The cold and lack of food had ravaged their bodies beyond possibility of restoration.  She helped Dr. Wild pass out what little bits of medicine they had and tried to offer hope where there was none.

             
One of the men, emaciated and flushed with fever, gazed up at Carrie with tortured eyes.  “Why do they treat us this way?  Why can’t we get simple food and medicine?  I don’t think that is asking so much.”  His words were slurred and broken.

             
Dr. Wild put a hand on his shoulder.  “Many of our own men are suffering,” he said kindly, in an attempt to explain what was in reality unexplainable.  “I’m afraid the Union blockade of our coast is rather a stunning success.  Far too little is able to get through.  I’m afraid Richmond is harder hit than any of the other cities.  The rather dubious honor of being the Confederate capital makes us a rather favorite target.” 

             
He took a deep breath.  “I am so sorry you are being treated this way.  If I had the power to change things, I certainly would,” he said, shaking his head sadly.  “I don’t expect this to be of any comfort to you, but there are many of our own citizens starving to death this winter as well.”

             
“Hurrah for war,” the soldier said grimly, then closed his eyes as another spasm of pain gripped him.  Minutes later he was carried off by several of the guards. 

             
“What will happen to him?”  Carrie whispered.

             
“He’ll be dead by tonight.”

Carrie and Dr. Wild were loading supplies into the wagon when the commander of the prison stepped up onto a platform and called for attention.  The prisoners crowded close this time, eager to receive any word of the prisoner exchange. 

              The commander looked out over the men, his hard face tinged with compassion.  “I’m afraid the government official was mistaken,” he began in a loud voice.  “The first five hundred men to be exchanged will happen as planned.  But they are merely to meet the quota for a special exchange arranged between our two governments.  The prisoner exchange program has not been reinstated.  No more men will be leaving.”  He stepped down and walked rapidly to his office on the far side of the encampment.

             
“Oh, no,” Carrie whispered, watching the prisoners.  Hundreds of faces were suddenly gripped with despair even deeper than what she had initially witnessed.  To have been so close to freedom, just to have it snatched away seemed more than some of the men could bear.  Dozens turned away weeping.  Several, overcome with emotion, began to beat themselves in agony of soul.

             
Carrie wept along with the men.  “How awful!” she cried, longing to set all of them free.  The wretched men she saw in front of her were no danger to anyone.  They simply wanted to go home and be with their families, surely to forget there was such a thing as war going on.  Most of the men had been so physically broken they would never fight again. 

             
Finally she looked at Dr. Wild.  “Get me out of here,” she ordered in a sick voice.

Zeke and Susie looked carefully at the map George had given them
; then both stared at the crossroads stretched out in front of them.  “I don’t see it anywhere,” Zeke said in a bewildered voice. 

             
“Are we lost?”  Susie’s voice trembled.

             
Zeke looked over and wrapped his arm around her comfortingly.  “Well, I wouldn’t say we are exactly lost.  I just don’t know for sure where we be.”  He straightened.  “We just got to keep heading east.  That be the way the fort is.  Sooner or later we’ll find something we recognize by this map.  Then we’ll know where we are,” he said brightly.             

             
Susie managed to smile at his determinedly cheerful voice.  She knew he was trying to lift her spirits.   Tucking her head against the wind, she pulled her coat closer to protect her against the driving rain and continued to walk.

             
“Look at it this way,” Zeke called above the wind, his own face buried in his collar.  “There won’t most likely be soldiers roaming around in this here weather.  I reckon they be burrowed up somewhere they can be warm.”

             
Susie didn’t bother to answer.  Her commitment to reaching Fort Monroe hadn’t diminished, but her enthusiasm for walking in the rain certainly had.  She would welcome the opportunity to worry about Confederate soldiers if she could just have dry ground to walk on.  Patting her pocket to make sure the letter was still there wrapped securely against the rain, she stepped around yet another large mud puddle.

             
Her mind flitted back to the cozy, warm cabin she had shared with Zeke.  She had loved the plantation.  Had loved watching her brother and sisters recover from their mother’s death and their father’s imprisonment and thrive under Opal’s cover.  But finally she had reached the point where she could no longer ignore her restlessness.  Moses’ dropping by had brought Zeke’s restlessness to a head and had made her recognize her own.  She knew she was doing the right thing - she just wished she didn’t have to be so miserable doing it. 

             
The hours sloshed by as they plodded down the dirt road, both struggling against the mud that reached out in a miry attempt to claim them.  The wind rose and fell in intervals, but the rain continued to fall steadily.  Susie was soaked through to the bone and shivering violently when she spied a structure through the undergrowth.  “Zeke!” she cried, stumbling as a puddle reached out to grab her.

             
“You all right?”  Zeke called anxiously, then stopped and tipped his hat so he could see her.

             
Susie pointed toward the woods.  “There’s a building in there.”

             
Zeke made a bee-line for the woods.  Moments later he popped back out and waved her over to join him.  “It ain’t nothing fancy,” he grinned, “but I reckon it’s a place we can call home for tonight.”

             
Susie brushed away the cobwebs tucked in the corner of the door frame and eased into the little cottage, clearly deserted for a long time.  It was dark and musty; little of the gray light outside filtered through the one small window on the back wall. 

             
“There be dry wood in the fireplace!”  Zeke called excitedly.  “Somebody must have left here real quick.”

             
“Probably running from a battle,” Susie said, sweeping the room with her eyes.  “Why don’t you get a fire started?” she suggested.  “There’s a broom in the corner.  I reckon I can get some of the dust stirred around and out of our way.”

             
Ten minutes later a fire was crackling brightly in the fireplace.  After the cabin had started to warm up, Suzie took off her coat and draped it over a table, then did the same with Zeke’s.  A stack of wood in the corner made her sure the coats would be dry by morning.  She looked around again.  “I wonder why the Union soldiers didn’t burn this place?”

             
“Probably wadn’t worth much to them,” Zeke shrugged.  “From what I can tell, they went after the big places.  I got reports that Moses and his men did bunches of damage.  Other raidin’ parties been out doin’ their mischief as well.”

             
“Well,” Susie sighed.  “I’m just glad for a warm, dry place tonight.  I know we need to get that letter to General Butler, but I don’t think I could have gone much farther in this weather.”

             
“It was sappin’ the life out of us, sure ‘nuff,” Zeke said, staring contentedly at the fire.  “I reckon we should be there in a couple of days.  In spite of the rain, I figure we made right good time.”  Susie yawned.  Zeke looked up and smiled.  “I saw some blankets over there in the corner.  I’m sure they gots lots of holes in them, but they’ll still keep us warm.”  He stood and walked to the dark corner.  Seconds later he was back, his arms loaded with blankets.  “You get some sleep,” he commanded.  “I’ll keep an eye on the fire.”  He reached into his sack and pulled out some food.  “Don’t you want some food before you sleep?  You ain’t ate nothin’ since lunch.” 

             
Susie shook her head and reached eagerly for the blankets which were indeed full of holes.  “Tired,” she mumbled.  She was asleep as soon as her head hit the floor.

Several times during the night
, she heard Zeke fussing with the fire, but the steady ping of rain on the tin roof always lulled her back to sleep. 

             
When Susie woke the next morning, she stretched mightily. Her body was refreshed, though stiff, from her night on the floor.  Zeke snored quietly beside her.  She glanced over at the fire still burning in the fireplace.  He must have gotten up not too long ago to stoke it.  She looked at him lovingly, grateful to have someone take care of her.  Sitting up slowly, she glanced toward the window.  With a wide smile, she threw aside her blankets and got up, moving quietly so as not to wake Zeke. 

             
Moments later she closed the door behind her and began gulping in deep breaths of the rain-freshened air as well as letting the first rays of the morning sun bathe her face with its golden light.  “Thank you that the rain has stopped,” she whispered to the sky.  She could feel her spirits rising with the sun. 

             
She didn’t know how long she had stood out there before she heard the front door open.  She spun around with a wide grin.  “The rain has stopped!” she cried joyfully.

             
Zeke stared at the golden globe on the horizon and nodded his head with satisfaction.  “I reckon we’d better be moving on.”