Escape by Night by Laurie Myers

Augusta, Georgia
    October 1863
    Â 

    The dog’s ears stood straight up. He rushed to the window and barked loudly.
    â€œWhat’s bothering Samson?” Annie asked, looking up from her book.
    Tommy pushed open the second-story window and leaned out. Samson joined him.
    â€œThere’s a wagon coming down Telfair Street,” he said. “Samson, what do you think’s in the wagon? Hogs?” Tommy smiled as he imagined the hogs snorting and squealing.
    â€œIt’s more likely beans or squash,” Annie said. She tossed her book aside and joined them.
    The wagon rolled by, and the awful scene below left them speechless. Instead of colorful vegetables or squealing hogs, the cart overflowed with dirty, bloody Confederate soldiers. They looked like old rags that had been cast aside. A breeze carried the unmistakable stench of sickness and death up to the window.
    â€œOh, my,” Annie said, covering her nose and mouth.
    Samson’s nostrils flared.
    â€œSmells like rotten fish,” Tommy said. “They must be going to our church.”
    First Presbyterian Church, where their father was pastor, stood catty-corner to their house. The white picket fence surrounding the church shone in the noonday sun. “I wish they wouldn’t use our church as a hospital,” Annie said.
    â€œIt’s still a church,” Tommy said.
    â€œNot with that yellow flag flying out front. Yellow flag means hospital.”
    Tommy turned his attention back to the wagon.
    â€œLook, the man on top is missing an arm.”
    The one-armed man stared into the sky with a strange blank look on his face. Tommy looked up to see what held the man’s attention. Clouds whirled around like giant balls of white yarn unrolling across a deep blue sky.
    â€œThe men aren’t moving,” Annie said.
    Tommy and Annie had seen a lot of wounded men coming and going from the railroad depot. Those men were constantly moving, hoping for some relief from their pain. The only movement on this cart was one man’s lifeless leg, which hung off the back, swinging back and forth like the pendulum of a large clock.

    â€œYou think they’re dead?” Tommy asked.
    â€œThat would explain the smell. I bet they’re on their way to Magnolia Cemetery.”
    Tommy pointed. “Look, the one-armed man has something under his arm.”
    Annie squinted. “It’s a book—maybe a Bible.”
    â€œOr secret battle plans,” Tommy whispered.
    Just then, the small ragged book slipped out from under the man’s arm and landed on the edge of the wagon. The wagon hit a bump, and the book bounced into the middle of Telfair Street.
    â€œHe lost his book!” Tommy said.
    Annie shrugged. “The man is dead. He won’t miss it.”
    The cart slowed. The driver motioned to two soldiers standing in front of the church. They disappeared inside and returned with a stretcher, then carried the one-armed man inside.
    â€œSee? He’s not dead,” Tommy said. His voice reflected the pleasure he felt at his small victory over Annie.
    â€œI hate war,” Annie said. “I’m going to the cookhouse to see what’s for lunch. Come on, Samson.”
    Samson stared at Annie but did not move.
    â€œWhy won’t he come?” she said. “And for that matter, why does he always sleep in your bed? I want him to sleep in mine.”
    Annie stared at the unmoving dog. “All right. Stay if you like, but you’re my dog, too.” She left the room.
    Tommy stared at the small, dusty book in the middle of the street.
    â€œThat book must be special if the soldier carried it through the battlefields all the way to Augusta,” he said to Samson. “If you think we should get the book, then bark. ”
    Samson barked.
    â€œGood boy.” Tommy put his arm around the dog. “I can’t go outside until after lunch. Mother said so. That means if we want the book,