War (6 page)

Rademacher’s face fell. “But — but sir — ”

Colonel Weymouth ignored him and addressed Jake. “You will, of course, be able to present your case —eyewitnesses and so forth.”

“I don’t have any eyewitnesses!” Jake replied.

“Just tell us what you know about the Rebels,” Edmonds snapped.

“I DON’T KNOW ANYTHING!”

“A shame.” Colonel Weymouth raised a heavy white eyebrow. “That kind of statement tends not to work well in a court-martial proceeding.”

Court-martial.

Trial by military officers.

Weymouth, Rademacher, and Edmonds.

I don’t stand a chance.

“But what if I lose?” Jake asked. “Doesn’t someone have to, like,
shoot
me?”

“No, no, no.” Rademacher smirked. “Not
someone.
A firing squad.”

Jail?

Firing squad.

Excuse me. Contact reestablished. We got him back.

And?

He told us to mind our own business.

“S
TRING ’IM UP, THAT’S
what they’re gonna do — even though he’s a boy. Just to make an example.”

BOOOM!

“Shame, ain’t it, Clarence? They blame the weakest ones. The place is crawlin’ with
real
moles, but they’ll never get caught.”

Crrrack! Crrrack! Crrrack! Crrrack!

Jake jumped at the shots.

That’ll be me.

Before the firing squad.

Blindfolded.

Hands tied.

One last request, kid. What’ll it be?

What
would
it be? To see Mom?

This wasn’t fun.

Seeing Johnson die. Watching Samuelson bleed from a wound. Hearing Platt scream from a point-blank shot. Looking up the barrel of a loaded musket.

Special effects?

No. It’s too real. Death can’t be faked like that. Another person’s pain can’t feel so nauseating if it’s just acting.

The feeling was gone now. The way he imagined war, up in the attic —

It’s nothing like that.

Nothing.

“If they had half a brain,” said the first man, Clarence, “they’d put that snake Orvis in here, too.”

“A full
brain, and they’d get Rademacher.”

From inside the cabin, Rademacher’s voice called out, “Shut your mouths, ’fore I pump ’em full of buckshot!”

Clarence lowered his voice to a whisper. “He’s got the curse, Jamie. The anger. Makes him blind. He shot Platt.”

“That don’t mean he’d turn sides.”

“He would, for revenge. The Colonel stole his girl. Plumb destroyed him.”

“Aaaah, Rademacher don’t do nothing less’n Edmonds tells him.”

“So who says ol’ Edmonds ain’t in on it, too?”

“Hey — maybe all of ’em are!”

Both men burst out cackling.

Enough.

“Stop it!” Jake shouted. “How can you guys stand it in here? How can you
laugh?”

“Don’t know what you’re complaining about, fella.” Clarence jerked a thumb out the window.
“They’re
the ones fightin’. We got it easy in here.”

“Don’t you
want
to fight?” Jake asked. “Isn’t that why you enlisted?”

“Hoooo-hahaha! That’s good!” roared Jamie. “I came here ’cause they would’ve arrested me back home.”

“I came here ’cause I was paid to,” Clarence said. “That’s how it works. A rich gen’leman can avoid service by sending a paid fella like me in his place.”

Hopeless idiots.

“But — but — this is the greatest war of all time,” Jake said. “The whole country is falling apart — and
you
can fight it. Destroy the enemy. Show them who’s boss — ”

“Yeeee-hahh!” Jamie whooped. “We’ll just watch
you
do it!”

Cowards.

They were the lowest forms of life Jake had met.

Even their opinions were stupid.

Orvis, a spy?

Jake remembered what Orvis had said when he’d first met him
—
“You Rebel?”

He was the one who first suspected me.

Edmonds? Rademacher?

Ridiculous.

Absolutely off the wall.

It had to be someone else. Someone suspicious. Someone who left clues. Like …

Like …

Jake sat on the cell’s one chair. His mind was numb. Images began bubbling up.

Like Orvis. Hinting he wanted to go south. To work.

What did that mean? Was it a signal? Was
h
e testing my response to see if I was a Rebel?

Or … is he one himself?

Like Edmonds, with his battle plan.

Incompetent beyond belief. As if he wanted the Confederates to win.

Like Rademacher and his temper. The way he casually shot Platt.

Revenge? Sabotage? Wouldn’t put it past that dude.

Maybe they
were
working together.

Maybe Clarence and Jamie weren’t so crazy.

FOOOOOOOM!

The ground shook violently. Jake and his two cell mates fell to the dirt.

“Uh-oh, that was from the north,” Clarence remarked.

“Ohhh, we’re gon’ get it now!” Jamie shouted.

The north.

The direction of Hobson’s Corner.

The Rebels were closing in now. From both sides.

Like
…

“Pincers,” Jake said.

“Say
what?”
Jamie asked.

Pincers. A squeeze. Two-sided advance. Solution: Blast enemy with heavy artillery during daylight. Keep them at bay while conserving as much musket ammo as possible. Fan out into the mountainside under cover of darkness. Next morning, enemy ambushes empty camp. Soldiers fire from hidden outposts in counterambush.

Jake remembered the strategy. From a book. Some Civil War battle.

A Union victory. Against all odds.

CRRRACK! CRRRACK! CRRRACK! CRRRACK!

A bullet flew through the cell window. Jake, Clarence, and Jamie flattened themselves.

Get the plan to Weymouth before it’s too late!

“I know what to do!” Jake shouted. “I know how to win this!”

“Better hurry,” Jamie remarked. “ ’Cause we ain’t got long.”

Jake pulled out his green steno book and began to write.

Green? Did they have green paper then?

Or wire-bound notebooks?

DOES IT MATTER?

Move to reopen contact. We don’t have much time.

He’s blocking channel one.

Trying two …

“E
ARLY LETTER TO
S
ANTY
Claus?” asked Clarence, peering over Jake’s shoulder. “Would you like me to run it to the mailbox?”

No time to waste. Don’t talk.

Jake scribbled as fast as he could, letting the two men look on.

He drew a map — the pass, the mountains, the village. He drew the enemy position, closing in.

And he drew the battle plan — a series of arrows and a brief explanation underneath.

The picture was crude, but the words would explain everything.

Military Tactics for Beginners. I can’t believe they haven’t thought of this themselves.

“It’s a map,” Jamie whispered.

“Well, I’ll be …” Clarence murmured.

“They was right,” Jamie said.

Now both men were backing away toward the cell door.

Jake glanced up.
“Who
was right?”

“You’re the one,” Jamie said. “You’re the — ”

Clarence began banging on the cell bars, shouting at the top of his lungs. “Hey! GUARD! RADEMACHER!”

Rademacher stormed in. “Shut your mouth ’fore I — ”

“He’s the spy!” Clarence said, pointing at Jake. “It ain’t us! He’s making plans for the Rebels! We caught him!”

“What are you talking about?” Jake said. “Didn’t you read the explana — ?”

Jake cut himself off. The two men were staring at him, their eyes fearful, hopeful, and vacant.

No.

They didn’t read it.

They can’t read.

Of course. It was the 1860s. Not everybody was literate. Not everybody went to school.

“I can explain!” Jake said.

“I’m sure you can.” Rademacher was grinning. “What’s on that itty-bitty piece of paper you’re holding?”

“A battle plan — for us! I know how we can win — ”

Fool.

Don’t give it away.

Not to him.

You can’t trust him.

Jake held the paper behind his back. “I demand to see Colonel Weymouth at once!”

“Funny, I thought
I
was the one who made demands around here.” With one swift move, Rademacher reached between the cell bars and grabbed the paper from Jake’s hand.

“NO!”

Rademacher made a big show of reading the map — scratching his chin, tapping his jaw. “Hmm, looks mighty interesting. Why, I’ll be sure to give it to him myself. Y’all behave while I’m gone, Southern boy, hear?”

With a sneer, he folded the map and left the cabin.

Jake slumped against the wall, glaring at Clarence. “You ruined it. You destroyed our chances.”

“Sorry, kid,” Clarence said. “It’s a war. A man’s got to do what a man’s got to do.”

Suddenly new memories were bubbling up. Stuff he’d read long ago about the Battle of Dead Man’s Trace.

This is how they lost.

The Rebels knew the Union Army’s every move. They anticipated the counterstrategies. Their spies infiltrated the ranks.

They blew the Federals to smithereens.

I could have stopped it. But I didn’t.

I gave it away.

He gazed out the window. At the encampment.

No. Not the encampment anymore. The battlefield.

The killing field.

Rademacher was running, hunched down, eyes peeled, the green paper still in his right hand.

Near Colonel Weymouth’s tent, he ducked behind a fortification of sandbags. He was scanning the note now, reading it. Orvis was limping past him, his arms full of first-aid supplies.

Suddenly Rademacher grabbed Orvis by the arm and shouted something that Jake couldn’t hear. Both men looked toward the prison.

Jake ducked. Instinctively.

When he rose again, Orvis was gone. The supplies were in a pile.

And Rademacher was racing into Colonel Weymouth’s tent. With the note.

He’s giving it to Weymouth.

Which meant he wasn’t the spy.

Which meant there was a chance of victory.

“Everybody! Out!” Orvis’s voice, high-pitched and hysterical, rang through the cabin. “All men to fight! Corporal Rademacher say we needing all we have!”

“YEEEE-HAH!” Jamie hollered.

Yes.

Finally.

Jake’s hands clenched. His throat constricted.

No retreating now, the way we did at Hobson’s Corner.

This would be different.

This would be revenge.

This would be real.

Orvis fumbled with a set of keys, then inserted one into the cell door and turned.

Clarence abruptly kicked open the door. “Come on, Jamie!”

With a cry of surprise, Orvis flew across the room, slamming into the wall.

Jake ran to help him. “Are you okay?”

“Orvis not spy!”
Orvis blurted out. “What Orvis tell you — South-North not matter — not means Orvis Rebel. Just needing job — ”

“Don’t worry!” Jake locked his arms around Orvis’s shoulders and helped him outside. “We’re even! I’m not a spy, either — ”

“Orvis knows this. Rademacher tells. He says you smarter than you look. NO, NOT GO THIS WAY. TO LEFT!”

Orvis yanked Jake to the left. Pulled him to the ground.

BLAAAAAAAM!

The ground erupted just to their right.

Clods of dirt rained around them. Jake rolled away and looked up.

Orvis was fine. But a crater had opened in the soil exactly where they’d been headed.

That could have been us.

Jake was shaking. The sound of the blast rang in his ears. H-h-how did you know?”

“I — I —” Orvis just shrugged.

“YEEEAAAAAAAGHHHH!”

A soldier was running toward Jake now, weaving. Shrieking.

The cook.

His eyes were wide, his head back. Blood dripped from a stump where his hand once was. It spurted as he pointed to Jake and Orvis. Then his face suddenly calmed and he began laughing uncontrollably.

“Down!” Orvis shouted. “He got the crazies! He — “

CRRRRRACK!

The cook’s body lurched off the ground. He fell, staring at Jake, trying to utter a sound. Then his eyes rolled back into his head.

“NO-O-O-O-O!”

Real that was real it couldn’t have been a
f
ake, the stump HOW DO YOU FAKE A STUMP? He’s dead dead dead

Orvis was pulling Jake now. “Come!” he shouted. “Away from open fire!”

Suddenly Jake felt himself lifted off his feet. From behind.

“You!” Sergeant Edmonds yelled. “Say your prayers, ’cause you’re a dead man.”

“DEAD, THE COOK IS DEAD I SAW HIM — ”

“I SHOULD THROW YOU TO YOUR OWN MEN!” Edmonds shouted. “YOU BETRAYED SAMUELSON. YOU GAVE UP THE CAMP — “

BLAAMMM!

Jake hurtled toward a long mortar-and-stone wall. He fell and rolled, with Edmonds and Orvis beside him. A line of soldiers was firing at the ridge, nestling their muskets between the stones.

Get away, you DON’T belong here, it’s NOT better, it STINKS, go home go home NOW

Jake stood up.

CRRRACKKK!

“GET DOWN! ARE YOU NUTS?” Sergeant Edmonds bellowed.

Yes. Yes, THATS EXACTLY WHAT I AM—

“I — I have to go!” Jake said.

Edmonds shoved a musket in his hands. “TAKE THIS AND USE IT, OR GIVE IT TO ME AND I’LL SHOOT YOU RIGHT NOW!”

NO. NO!

“SERGEANT, I’M ONLY FOURTEEN — “

“Sergeant…”

Samuelson’s voice.

Samuelson?

“You fool!” Edmonds shouted. “What are you doing out of the cabin?”

Samuelson crawled toward them, smiling weakly. “I heard you needed all the help you could get.”

“There he is,” Edmonds said, gesturing to Jake. “Judas. Kill him.”