Seven Out of Hell (5 page)

“Keep him gagged,” Hedges snapped, pointing to the engineer then turning and creeping along the wall to where Forrest was crouched by the front window.

The Captain ducked low and scuttled to the other side of the aperture. He peered out into the gathering early dusk and clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth as he saw the group of horsemen in a cautious approach to the house.

“At least ten,” Hedges said.

“Add two more,” Forrest answered, bringing up his rifle. “But they ain’t got a brain between ‘em. First saw ‘em, they were fanned out real good. Closer they come, more they bunched. First shot into the middle ought to take, out at least four of ‘em.”

“And make holes in their uniforms,” Hedges said with a shake of his head. “Maybe scare off the horses, too.” He looked back into the room, at the men crouched there. Rhett had re-assumed responsibility for the engineer and was pressing a Colt into the side of the man’s neck. “Douglas, cover the rear. Nobody get trigger happy.” He returned his attention to the Rebel cavalry patrol. “What’s their ranking?” he asked of Forrest.

The sergeant showed the Captain his crooked grin. “You wanna stay a Johnnie Reb, sir, you get demoted. Top man’s a lieutenant. Then there’s two sergeants and a corporal. Rest are enlisted men.”

Hedges’ hooded eyes examined the enemy soldiers as they halted their horses some three hundred feet in front of the house. Their faces were mere areas of paleness against the dark grey of their uniforms and caps. But the apprehension of some of the group could be seen in the way rifle barrels were leveled and hands dropped to holstered side arms.

“Anybody in there?” a man at the head of the group called. His voice was young, holding a timbre of nervousness.

“Come in and find out, why don’t you,” Seward breathed.

“I reckon we oughta pour some lead in there, lieutenant,” an older voice growled.

“The man’s a sadist,” Rhett said softly.

More voices sounded from the group, but too low to carry as far as the house. Then two men slid from their saddles and, with rifles leveled at the ready, moved cautiously forward. Hedges ducked back under the window and stabbed a finger at Forrest, Seward and Scott - finally at the bedroom door. The men moved forward to join Douglas who was guarding the window in there. Then the Captain indicated that the rest of the men should go into the kitchen.

“All we want is the drop on them,” he hissed as he crossed the threshold.

Both doors were pushed almost closed. The two Confederate cavalrymen had covered half the distance to the house, their eyes and ears straining to pick up a sign of danger. In the bedroom Douglas continued to crouch by the window as Forrest, Seward and Scott stood in an arc to one side of the door. In the kitchen, taking his cue from Hedges, Bell helped to hoist the quaking engineer back on to the hooks in the closet.

Because of his tallness, Hedges’ head was on almost the same level as that of the hanging man. He leaned close to him. “Soon as they come in, make a racket,” he whispered.

The man’s eyes grew wider, as if in disbelief. Hedges treated him to a cold grin and nodded. Then, with three silent strides, he reached the rear door and pulled in open. He jerked his head and Bell and Rhett followed him outside. He closed the door and pressed his finger against his thin lips as Douglas looked at him in amazement from the bedroom window. Then he motioned for Bell to go to one corner of the house before leading the anxious Rhett to the other.

The two Rebel soldiers, sweating from the strain, reached the house and flattened themselves against the wall on each side of the front door. They paused a moment, then one of them lifted his foot and launched a back-heeled kick at the door. It crashed open. They leapt into the opening, bringing up their rifles. Their sighs of relief echoed in the empty room.

Then fear clawed cold fingers around their throats again as the engineer began to moan through his gag and kick his feet against the sides of the closet. The men rushed across the room and adopted the same tactics as they employed at the front door.

“Jesus, will you look at that!” the taller of the two exclaimed as he saw the frantically struggling form of the engineer.

“They must have been here,” the other shot back. “Them’s railroad man’s threads. Get him down while I call the lieutenant.”

The engineer began to struggle with greater vigor and the veins stood out in his face and neck as he tried to warn his rescuers of dangers. But the tall cavalrymen chose to set him free of the hooks before taking off the gag. And the second man hurried out to the front door.

“They been, but they’ve gone, lieutenant!” he yelled. “Left the engineer here, though.”

The rest of the patrol heeled their horses forward, still bunched together, heading for the house. Hedges waited until the enemy soldiers were lost to sight around the angle of the house and, after beckoning to Bell, led Rhett along the wall. At the front corner he held back, listening to the sounds of the men dismounting and going inside. Then, after a glance around the angle, he motioned for Rhett to hold the horses. He signaled to Bell at the other corner and both men crept towards the open front door, Bell having to duck below the level of the window sill. They paused, Hedges nodded: they stepped into the opening and across the threshold, rifles cocked and leveled.

“They’re here!” the engineer screamed from the kitchen.

“Ain’t that the truth,” Hedges said evenly into the shocked silence which followed the shout.

The eleven men trying to crowd into the kitchen doorway whirled around, jostling each other to draw a bead on the two Union men. Hedges raised the Spencer and squeezed the trigger. The roar of the shot had a freezing effect on the Rebels. The man who’s head was showered with wood splinters and plaster from the ceiling did not even blink.

“There’s only two of ‘em, sir,” an old sweat growled.

Hedges shook his head, his lips curling back to show his teeth in an evil grin. “Wrong,” he chided. “Count them.”

The frightened eyes of the Rebels swiveled to the bedroom door as it creaked open and Forrest came into view, followed by Seward, Douglas and Scott, each with a rifle cocked and aimed. And each with a brittle grin veneering his emaciated features. The six Union men formed a half circle around the cluster of Rebels.

With the exception of the old sweat, the patrol was composed of fresh-faced youngsters hardly out of their teens. The officer seemed to be among the youngest.

“The report I received specified seven escapers,” the lieutenant said, having to force his voice to maintain a level tone.

“Rhett’s our ace in the hole,” Hedges answered.

“Asshole, more like,” Seward muttered.

“We still got ‘em almost two to one,” the veteran complained.

“Guy’s got a big mouth,” Forrest growled.

“Don’t match his build, though,” Hedges pointed out. “He don’t size up to any of us.”

Forrest shot a glance at the Captain and licked his lips. “You mean I can...?”

“Might convince these guys to toss their guns into the corner,” Hedges allowed, nodding towards the area he had in mind.

“You got anything else to say, big mouth?” Forrest demanded, glaring at the leather-like features of the oldest Rebel.

“Go to hell!” the man retorted.

“After you,” Forrest answered as his Spencer exploded.

The old sweat took the .52 caliber shell in the throat, the impact smacking him back against the wall. His legs folded under him and he toppled sideways.

The men’s eyes showed tacit pleas for guidance from the lieutenant. The young officer dragged his shocked gaze away from the gaping wound in the dead man’s throat and struggled to find his voice.

“You’ll guarantee the safety of my men?” be asked hoarsely.

“They’ll get treated like lambs,” Hedges answered tonelessly.

The lieutenant nodded, and threw his rifle into the corner indicated by Hedges. Then he unfastened his ammunition belt with its attached holster and tossed this in the same direction. When all the men w
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re disarmed, Forrest moved forward and relieved the dead Rebel of his pistol and rifle, adding them to the pile.

The evening was giving birth to the new night now and in the gloom invading the room the pale faces of the Rebels were distrustful. But the most frightened man of all was the fat little engineer who had jostled himself into the centre of the group.

“What now?” the lieutenant asked.

“Strip,” Hedges answered.

Several of the men gasped.

“What?” The lieutenant swallowed hard.

“You heard him, and he outranks you,” Forrest snapped. “You want me to blast some more little ’uns, Captain?”

Hedges spat at a beetle crawling across the floor. He missed. “Give them three seconds.”

Before Forrest could open his mouth to start counting, the men were fumbling at their tunic buttons.

“Me, too, Mister Captain, sir?” the trembling engineer stuttered.

“You’re sweating so much, Casey, I reckon you’ll be doing yourself a favor.”

The little man hurried to take off his coveralls.

“Just the uniforms, caps and boots,” Hedges intoned as several of the men began to pull off their underwear. “Rhett might be peeking and we wouldn’t want to get him excited.”

Looking even more defenseless in their state of undress, clustering closer together as if for protection, the Rebels stared dejectedly as each of their six captors stooped down from the half circle of guards to select and don a uniform and then pick out an ammunition belt. The best fits provided Hedges and Bell with the rank of sergeants and the others were kitted out as privates. A spare trooper’s uniform was selected for Rhett.

“Grey never was my color,” Seward complained. “Only reason I joined the Union army instead of the Johnnie Rebs.”

“Take their guns out and dump them!” Hedges ordered, snapping his gaze from Seward to Douglas.

Nobody said anything else until the task had been completed, which entailed two trips by each man. The beetle made another trek across the dusty floor. The heel of one of Hedges’ newly-acquired boots crushed it.

“Obliged for your help, lieutenant,” the Captain said, backing towards the door. “We’ll need seven of your horses as well.”

“But lambs we don’t need,” Forrest pointed out.

Hedges shrugged. “So give them the chop.”

His was the first shot, crashing into the chest of the young lieutenant. The man stumbled backwards, spraying his blood across the grubby underwear of his troopers. Screams and sobs rent the near darkness that had come to the room. The helpless Confederate soldiers, with the frantic engineer in their midst, clawed at each other in an attempt to force entrance to the kitchen. But then the other Union men began to fire into the panicked group, each explosion heralding another scream which was instantly swamped by more gunshots.

Blood gushed from countless wounds in the heads and bodies of the Rebels as one lifeless form after another was added to the heap of carnage. Bone, flesh and blood spattered against the wall and door. The wide-eyed dead stared through the gloom into the hate-crazed faces of their killers. In the silence which followed the slaughter, gunsmoke added an acrid taint to the hot air.

“Guess Andersonville ain’t in any of us no more,” Forrest snarled.

“And those bastards sure won’t be sending any Yankees to that hell-hole,” Seward snarled.

Another shot reverberated the foul-tasting air and as the six men whirled towards the door, six more followed the first. Rhett’s sallow face was carved in a mask of savagery as he emptied his Spencer. Each bullet made a dull plop as it drilled through the dead flesh.

Forrest sighed. “Like the man said, Bob, once is enough.”

“I was in that lousy place, too,” the New Englander responded spitefully.

“Where are the horses?” Hedges demanded.

“Tied up, Captain,” Rhett answered. “Safe.”

Hedges nodded curtly and motioned for Rhett’ to shed his tattered Union garb and don the spare uniform. Then the men moved out into the clean-smelling darkness and took their pick of the horses. Water canteens and rations from the saddlebags were shared equally under the Captain’s supervision. They ate as they rode.

“Pity about Casey gettin’ it,” Douglas said after a long period when only the munching of stale food and the sounds of the horses’ progress disturbed the stillness. “He didn’t mean no harm.”

“He just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Hedges replied flatly.

“He was railroaded,” Forrest growled.

Hedges heeled his horse into a faster pace and the Union men in Confederate grey were swallowed up by the safe darkness of the Georgia night.

*****

“You will be kind enough to remain still like the rock.”

Edge snapped open his eyes and looked out from under his hat brim at the smooth face of the Chinese sitting opposite him. Then he lowered his gaze and his eyes became mere lines of iced blue as he saw the twin muzzles of the sawn-off double-barreled shotgun.

“And I thought you guys only ran restaurants”, he muttered.