Authors: Ryan C. Thomas
Again, he thought of the December snow and how cold it had been against his head in New Hampshire three months ago. The trek through the dense woods to the resistance had been arduous and exhausting, but it had been necessary to raid the garrison for ammunition. The law couldn
’
t prove it was him, but they had their suspicions, and he knew it.
He was being watched.
Satisfied with the fire
’
s heat, he picked his hide coat up off the bed. It was good against the wind, if not a tad restricting, and when he donned it he felt the weight of the night rest on his shoulders. His tricorn hat lay next to it; he placed it on his head. Next, he slipped on a pair of cracked leather gloves, stained with the soil of numerous New England towns. He lit a candle on the dresser near his bed, watched the flame grow and lick. Such a small flame, he thought, and yet were it to fall to the floor, the
house would burn to cinders. C
ould he be like that flame tonight, he asked
himself.
Bang bang!
He jumped. Someone was knocking at the door. The rifle on the table was in his hand in a flash.
“
Who is it?
”
“
Sir, it
’
s me, Richard.
”
The
voice belonged to a young boy.
Richard, Paul thought, Dr. Warren
’
s stable boy from the next town. When he opened the door, the boy spilled into the room with pluming breath, his cheeks flushed with blood.
“
Sir,
”
he said,
“
they
’
re on the move.
”
“
Are you sure? You must be sure.
”
“
Yes, sir. A whole army, coming this way. Close behind. More than we thought.
”
Paul grabbed the boy
’
s shoulders and dragged him to the table.
“
Here, sit, eat.
”
“
But I have to get back
—
”
“
You
’
ll go back when you
’
re rested and full. Warm yourself by the fire.
”
“
Won
’
t they come here?
”
“
No, they
’
re watching me. They
’
ll see me leave.
”
Paul buttoned up his collar, gave the boy a squeeze on the shoulder.
“
You did well.
”
He turned to leave, his hand on the door handle, when the boy spoke again.
“
Sir?
”
“
Yes, Richard.
”
“
Sir, stay out of the woods by the stream. I cut through and was followed. I heard footsteps following me the whole time. They may have set a trap.
”
“
Good job, boy. Now eat.
”
Paul left.
***
Paul
’
s instincts had been correct, as they often were; something
was
happening tonight. He briskly walked away from his home, staying in the center of the street, knowing
he was being watched, hoping
to draw any officials away from his house, away from the boy.
A wide loop brought him around the back of his neighbor
’
s houses to a nearby church rectory where he rapped on the door.
A
n old sexton answered
w
earing a thick coat and hat, his aged face w
eathered and cracked like shale
. Beyond him, inside the rectory, a full plate of food sat on a table. It was untouched, the same as Paul
’
s dinner had been. Next to the table stood a rifle.
The sexton nodded.
“
I knew you were coming.
”
“
It
’
s happening tonight, the soldiers have grouped,
”
Paul replied.
“
The King
’
s army will arrive shortly. You know what to do?
”
“
Please, Paul, it
’
s been playing through my mind for days. How could I forget?
”
“
Yes, well, I
’
ve seen you play chess…I can only blame senility for some of those moves.
”
The two men smiled at each other, an attempt to
add levity to
the moment.
“
I will be in touch,
”
Paul said, turning to leave.
“
Paul, wait, I…something feels wrong.
”
“
Yes, the enemy is coming—
”
“
No, I mean, there have been occurrences of late…ever since you got back from New Hampshire. Missing livestock, blood on the flagstones. One of the stable boys said he saw red eyes in the woods on the way to Charleston. I may have seen something myself.
”
“
Relax. The enemy would have us afraid,
”
replied Paul,
“
with trickery and deceit. But they are the ones who will know fear. I must hurry. I await your signal.
”
With a tip of his hat, Paul turned and headed for the river docks.
***
The sexton closed the door. The food on the table was of no more interest to him, so he took it out back and left it f
or the stray cats
—though it had been days since he
’
d seen the cute creatures. Next, he took up his gun, left the rectory and entered the churc
h. It was cold and dark and the
timber groaned as he walked to the altar. The moon showed through the window at the front, paint
ing a sallow square on the floor
.
Here, the sexton prayed for Paul
’
s safety, and prayed to quell his apprehension about what the stableboys were reporting about the missing livestock. When he was done, he took the stairs to the top of the steeple and stepped out into the open, bitter air. Close by, the sea was restless, the scent of salt heavy on the breeze. Below him, the town streets were bare. No doubt Paul had already met some locals along the way and warned them of the night
’
s impending events; everyone would be preparing, waiting at home with guns drawn.
He looked toward the tree line, out toward where he had seen the large black shape lurking the night before. He didn
’
t see it now. But somehow, before this night was over, he knew he would.
***
Paul ran, keeping to the edge of town. The side streets gave way to a cow trail that led to the river docks. There he stopped, sucking in bitter, frigid air that stung his lungs, checking to make
sure he was alone. His coat was just barely keeping him warm, and where there was a piece torn out of the back of the collar, the icy wind bit into his flesh. He
’
d lost the swatch sometime back in December, back in New Hampshire.
His rest over, he resumed his jog down the path until the river
’
s brine hit his nose. Then, rounding a section of the trail near the water, he ran right into a roadblock. Four men, dressed in red, carrying guns. The enemy! But they were facing the other way.
Crouching down, he found a large rock at his feet, grabbed it and pitched it into the woods. The guards
’
heads snapped toward the noise.
“
Wha
’
s that?
”
one of them asked, slowly moving toward
the surrounding foliage
to investigate
.
“
I don
’
t like it out ’
ere one bit,
”
another answered.
“
There
’
s noises in these woods what not human. You heard what they found? They say it
’
s here.
”
“
I ’
ear lots I choose to ignore. Just stay bloody alert.
”
Stepping lightly, Paul found an adjoining path, followed it down to the water. A goopy fog hovered over it like a wall of uncertainty, and nearby the bells of a ship chimed in time to the lapping waves. Paul touched his weapon. At that instant, two figures in black stepped from the trees. Paul pulled his gun and aimed.
“
Helluva night, aye
,
Paul?
”
It was Joshua and Thomas, prepared as always.
“
It
’
s begun,
”
Paul replied, breathing heavy. His heart was only beginning to slow a beat. Shouldering his gun, he said,
“
We have to get by the ship. Get north.
”
“
What word of the arrival,
”
Joshua asked as he motioned for Paul to follow him to the water
’
s edge. On the shore sat a small boat loaded with two oars.
“
We
’
ll know as we go,
”
Paul said, climbing into the boat.
***
To the north, near the river, the fog was thickening. Whether Paul would see the signal through such a dense barrier, the sexton wondered, was anyone
’
s guess.