Leapholes (2006)

by James Grippando

Jarvis groaned. "How are we supposed to escape through the woods with a woman who's so pregnant that she can't even see her own feet?"

  "We can't just leave her here," said Ryan. "She'll slow us down if we take her," said Jarvis. "No she won't," said Ryan. "Abigail's horse is hitched to a tree in the woods. Hannah can ride."

  Hezekiah held the woman's hand. "Ryan's right. We can't leave her. Or her baby. We'll find a way, Hannah." "Thank you, sir. I thank every one of you." "Which one of the slaves is your husband?" asked Abigail. "We should bring him, too."

  The young woman's eyes filled with sadness. "My husband got sold six months ago. I don't know where he is now."

  Ryan said, "Old Man Barrow sold your husband after you were expecting a child?" "He sure did."

  "That man is just plain evil," said Abigail. "Yes, he is," said Hezekiah. "Evil with a capital E." Ryan wondered if that could mean Evil as in Legal Evil, but this was not the time to be sorting out riddles--especially not in front of Hannah and Abigail.

  "It's agreed, then," said Hezekiah. "Hannah comes with us."

  Jarvis drew a breath. "When we all get caught, I'll try not to say I told you so."

  "We won't get caught," said Abigail. "But we have to leave now. Let's move it!"

  The run for the woods almost proved Jarvis's point. It was more like a brisk walk. Hannah was going as fast as she could, which was not very fast at all. Finally, all six of them crossed the field and reached the cover of trees and bushes. They stopped briefly to rest--mostly for Hannah's benefit--then continued deeper into the woods. Hannah might not have made it but for the promise of a ride. Minutes later, they found Abigail's horse where she had left it, hitched to a tree. Ryan removed some supplies from the horse's back to make room for Hannah. Hezekiah and Jarvis lifted her into the saddle. She smiled, and everyone seemed happy, as if the most difficult part of the journey was behind them.

  The sound of barking dogs immediately told them otherwise.

  "Them's bloodhounds," said Abigail.

  "On us already?" said Jarvis.

  Hezekiah said, "We must have awakened that informant. I bet he turned old man Barrow's dogs loose."

  "Obviously they got our scent," said Abigail. "We gotta run for the creek. It's the only way to throw them off the trail."

  "It's not the only way," said Kaylee. "We can use a leaphole."

  "Leapin' what holes?" said Abigail.

  There was no time to explain to outsiders. Hezekiah responded directly to Kaylee, as if Abigail and Hannah weren't even there. "I don't have any leapholes, Kaylee. That's why I'm a slave."

  "We can use mine. I still have my return."

  Hezekiah seemed tempted. "No good. We can't use it now. We can't leave Hannah behind."

  "What are y'all talking about?" said Abigail.

  The barking was getting louder. The dogs were drawing closer.

  "Those dogs are inside of a quarter mile," said Jarvis. "I told you we should never have brought Hannah with us. Just leave her."

  "We can take her with us," said Ryan. "We'll link together, the way Jarvis and I did when we came here. It's like a human chain."

  Jarvis grimaced. "You want to take a pregnant nineteenth-century slave to the twenty-first century? That's very dangerous, Ryan."

  "It can't be more dangerous than running through the woods and being chased by dogs."

  "Oh, yes it can be," said Jarvis.

  "Here's the plan," said Ryan. "We take Hannah with us just long enough for her to get away from these slave catchers. We go back to Hezekiah's office. He grabs another leaphole from his stash, and then he immediately turns around and brings her back to 1857. Only this time he brings along a leaphole to get himself back to where he belongs."

  Abigail's face was chalk white, as if she'd seen a ghost. "Who in the heck are you people?" she said, her voice quaking.

  "Ryan's plan could work," said Hezekiah.

  "Then let's do it!" said Kaylee. "Everyone link arms."

  Jarvis elbowed his way into prime position, right beside Kaylee. "I better go next to Kaylee," he said. "I'm the only one strong enough to hang on to all of you."

  "That's fine," said Hezekiah. "Kaylee first, since it's her leaphole. Jarvis is next. Then me, then Ryan, and then Hannah."

  "What about Abigail?" asked Ryan.

  "No, sir. I ain't going nowhere with you crazy people," she said.

  "It's us or the dogs," said Hezekiah.

  The hounds were close enough to be heard breaking through the brush. Abigail considered it for a moment, then said, "Okay. I'll go. I'd rather take my chances with you crazy loons than end up being dog food."

  They each took their positions, standing shoulder-to-shoulder. Kaylee opened her backpack and removed the old case book that she'd borrowed from Hezekiah's library. She turned to the Dred Scott decision, finding the exact page through which she had entered the leaphole. Finally, she removed two leapholes from her pocket, the spent leaphole that had brought her here, and the return leaphole that would take her home.

  The barking was more intense. The dogs were hot on their trail.

  "Hurry," said Jarvis.

  "I'm hurrying," said Kaylee. She ran her finger along the page, searching for the precise spot where she had placed the leaphole for her initial journey. She placed the return leaphole exactly in the same place, and then laid her spent leaphole on top of it.

  Nothing was happening.

  Ryan said, "Are you sure this is going to work?"

  "It'll work," said Hezekiah. "Just give it a minute."

  The dogs sounded like they were just on the other side of the bushes. Ryan wished Sam were with him, though it was doubtful that his Golden would have been a match for those hounds. "We may not have a minute," said Ryan.

  Suddenly, an orange glow appeared around the book.

  "Here it goes," said Kaylee.

  Ryan felt a warm current of energy rushing through his body. It wasn't scary, but it was definitely inexplicable. The warmth became a vibration, and Hannah was suddenly trying to wiggle free.

  "What's happening?" she said.

  Ryan tightened his grip on her elbow. "Stay with it, Hannah!"

  Slowly, Ryan felt himself moving forward. Kaylee was turning like an axle. The others moved around her in circular fashion, like the sweeping secondhand of a huge clock. They walked slowly at first, then faster. The orange light grew brighter, and soon they weren't walking at all. They were propelled in the same clock-like, circular motion. It reminded Ryan of those Ice Capades shows, where the skater at the fulcrum whips a long line of other skaters around her.

  "Holy smokes!" shouted Hannah, but Ryan could barely hear her. They were gaining speed quickly. Suddenly, just as the barking dogs came into sight, the surroundings became a blur. All sounds of the forest evaporated. Then darkness turned to light, and Ryan felt the pull of the leaphole.

  "Hold on!" shouted Hezekiah.

  Ryan squeezed Hannah's arm with his left hand. He held Hezekiah's arm with his right. Beyond that fading sense of human touch, there was just the intense light of the leaphole, the amazing pull that was its power.

  Then something went wrong. The smooth swirling motion of the leaphole gave way to a strange and disturbing sensation of uncontrolled flying. Ryan felt as though they were tumbling and twisting in no particular direction at all. He tried to get his bearings. He told himself that nothing was wrong, but he knew that something was very wrong. He knew, because he could hear the concern in Hezekiah's voice. The old man was shouting at the top of his voice. Ryan couldn't understand him at first. As the flying began to feel more like falling, Ryan finally made out the words.

  "Stay together!" shouted Hezekiah. "Everyone, just stay together!"

  Chapter 30

  They landed in a meadow at sunrise. Low-hanging clouds to the east seemed to be floating on a purple-orange sea of calm. As the sun broke the plane, the chill of night started to burn away. Dew drops glistened on waves of spring grass and an endless field of ye
llow blossoms.

  The forest was gone. The dogs were gone.

  And so was Kaylee.

  Ryan rose and counted heads once more. To his left were Hannah and Abigail; to his right, Hezekiah and Jarvis. Apart from looking as if they'd emerged from a wind tunnel, they were unharmed. Ryan was more worried about his missing friend. "What happened to Kaylee?" he said.

  "Our human chain must have broken during take-off," said Hezekiah.

  Jarvis lowered his head in shame. "I'm sorry, everyone. I just couldn't hold on."

  Ryan tried not to get angry, but his concern for Kaylee left him somewhere between alarmed and agitated. "What do you mean you couldn't hold on? Everyone else managed to hang on. You're stronger than any of us."

  "Yeah, but I was the only one who had the weight of four people pulling on my arm. Hezekiah had only three, you had two, and Hannah had only one. Once that leaphole started to swirl, it was like trying to hold on to four people in the middle of a hurricane."

  "All right, fine," said Ryan. "But can somebody please tell me where Kaylee is?"

  "She's a sharp girl," said Hezekiah. "She knows well enough to stay with the leaphole and ride it out. I'm sure she's home by now."

  Hezekiah's reassurance put him somewhat at ease. But he suddenly had a new worry. "If Kaylee's at home, then where are we?

  Hezekiah's gaze swept the meadow. The sun was now completely above the horizon, making the field of wild yellow flowers even more bright. "I have no idea," he said. "Abigail, Hannah--how about you? Does this place look familiar?"

  "Not in the least."

  "No, sir," added Hannah.

  "Then what are you saying?" said Ryan. "We could be ... anywhere?"

  "No, I wouldn't say anywhere. We broke away from the leaphole during take off, which means that we're probably not very far from where we started."

  "But we have no leapholes," said Ryan. "So wherever we are, it means--"

  "We're stuck," said Jarvis, finishing the thought. "And it's all my fault. I can't believe I blew it for everybody."

  He had indeed let them down, but finger pointing never did any good. Hezekiah laid a consoling hand on his shoulder and said, "Don't blame yourself, big guy."

  "It's okay, Jarvis," said Ryan. "It would have taken the strongest man in the world to hang on to four people in that leaphole."

  "You really mean that?" said Jarvis.

  "Sure," said Hezekiah. "We'll figure something out."

  Abigail rose and brushed the droplets of morning dew from her pants. "I don't know what in tar-nation you people are talking about, and I don't want to know. But we ain't never gonna figure out where we is just sittin' around moping. Let's git"

  "Which way do we go?" asked Ryan.

  "North," she said. "As far north as we can take this runaway slave."

  Hannah held her belly. "I'm feeling kind of funny."

  Abigail said, "You just hang on there, momma. We don't want that baby popping out till we know we're in a free state."

  Hannah grimaced with pain. "I dunno if I can wait. I think all that swirling and twirling maybe got this baby a little excited."

  "You want your baby to be born free or born a slave?"

  "Free. 'Course I want him free."

  "Then you tell him to calm right down and wait a spell, honey. Abigail's in control now. I'll get you and that little one to freedom. We'll be having no more fancy leapholes, or whatever you folks call those things. It's time for me to take y'all on a little ride."

  "What kind of ride?" said Hannah.

  She smiled and said, "From here on out, we'll be traveling by railroad. The underground railroad."

  As Ryan soon discovered, the underground railroad was neither underground nor a railroad. The term actually referred to the secret routes that runaway slaves traveled when fleeing north to freedom and the loose network of assistance they received along the way. It started after the American Revolution and became more organized as opposition to slavery swelled in the mid-nineteenth century. The lines of secrecy cut through rivers and swamps, across meadows, over mountains, and down dusty roads. The whole system worked because people who hated slavery were brave enough to risk their own lives in the hope that others would find freedom. Over the years, perhaps a 100,000 fugitives from bondage escaped through the underground railroad.

  Sadly, Ryan was beginning to have serious doubts as to whether Hannah would be one of them.

  "Just a little bit farther, honey," said Abigail.

  "I can't go no farther," said Hannah.

  They'd been walking for two hours, due north. Abigail's horse had been left behind in the leaphole disaster, so they had to travel on foot. They stopped only three times, once to drink from a stream and fill their canteens, and twice more to hide Hezekiah and Hannah in the weeds. Because they didn't know where they were, the safest bet was to assume that any sign of life on the horizon might be a slave-catching posse. Fortunately, both scares had been false alarms. The first time it was a herd of deer crossing the meadow. The second time was sheer paranoia. Hannah had only thought she'd seen some men on horseback in the distance.

  The sod house straight ahead was no mirage, no false alarm. It was as real as the sweat on Ryan's brow. A sod house was exactly what the name implied: a house constructed from chunks of sod cut from the ground. It blended into the surroundings like a grassy knoll on the prairie, which made it a perfect place for runaway slaves to hide from the dangers of daylight.

  Unless its owner was pro-slavery.

  "Oh, my!" Hannah shrieked. She fell to her knees. Ryan felt her fingernails digging into his forearm as she struggled to endure her sudden surge of pain.

  "Another one?" said Ryan.

  Hannah nodded, unable to speak.

  Abigail said, "She's having some mighty powerful contractions."

  "Is that a bad thing?" asked Ryan.

  "That's a body's way of telling a woman that her baby's coming. It'll pass."

  Slowly, some of the tension seemed to drain from Hannah's body. Her back and shoulders were less stiff, but she appeared exhausted. The intense abdominal pain had indeed passed. From the look on her face, however, the repeated episodes were beginning to take their toll.

  "You okay, honey?" asked Abigail.

  Hannah caught her breath. "This is wearing me out."

  "Your contractions are coming about every ten minutes now. They're getting stronger, aren't they?"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "Won't be long now," said Abigail.

  Jarvis looked at her quizzically. "What do you mean it won't be long?"

  "That baby is coming before sundown. I bet my life on it."

  "We need to get her to a hospital," said Ryan.

  "A hospital?" Hezekiah said with a chuckle. "This is 1857, Ryan. That sod house up ahead will have to do."

  Hannah managed to take a few steps forward, but she'd already done too much walking on too little rest. It was clear that she couldn't make it the full fifty yards to the sod house. Ryan ran ahead and brought back a wood plank from the ramshackle fence around the sod house. Jarvis and Hezekiah each took an end, and they used it like a stretcher to carry Hannah the rest of the way. As they drew closer, Ryan went to the front door and knocked, but he heard only a hollow echo.

  He tried again, but it was obvious that no one was home. He pushed the door, and it creaked as it opened. A racoon ran over Ryan's feet, startling him. He collected himself and stepped inside.

  There was just a single room, if you could call it a room. It had all the charm of a hole in the ground. The walls were dirt, and so was the floor. The sod roof was supported by rotting timbers. They were sagging in places, and perhaps one or two more winters would trigger a complete collapse. The only furniture was a chest of drawers in the corner and an old wooden table up against the wall. The whole place smelled foul, like an outhouse for racoons. No human being had lived there for quite awhile, but it was the best the prairie had to offer.

  Ryan stepped outside a
nd shouted, "Looks great! Come on in!"

  They carried Hannah inside and laid her on the table. She was in terrible distress, and Ryan wasn't sure how to console her. He was glad Abigail was with them. Herself a mother, Abigail knew exactly what to do. She sent Hezekiah out to gather sticks and branches for a fire. Ryan searched the chest of drawers for some matches, but of course "safety matches" were not widely available in 1857. Ryan settled for a piece of flintstone that the previous occupants had left behind. After many failed attempts, he and Hezekiah finally produced a spark big enough to light the dry grass and twigs. Minutes later, they had a roaring fire. Ryan and the men stayed outside and kept it burning. Abigail stayed inside with Hannah. All was silent, save for the occasional crackling of the fire and the periodic screams from the mother to be.

  Hannah's last cry had been particularly shrill.

  "What's going on in there?" said Jarvis.

  "Pain's a natural part of childbirth," said Hezekiah. "No way around that. At least not in the middle of the nineteenth century."

  The door opened. Abigail emerged, her sleeves rolled up and a panicky expression on her face. She knelt beside the fire and heated the blade of her pocketknife until it was glowing red. Then she handed Ryan her canteen and said, "Boil me some water!"

  Ryan didn't know anything about birthing babies, but he seemed to recall from the movies that when someone said "Boil some water," the baby wasn't far off.

  "Yes, ma'am," he said.

  "I need you in here," she told Hezekiah. She took him by the arm, and the two of them disappeared into the sod house.

  Ryan emptied the canteen into an old metal pot that he'd found inside the sod house. Just as the water came to the boil, he heard another one of Hannah's cries from inside the sod house.

  "Push!" ordered Abigail.

  "I can't, I can't!" screamed Hannah.

  Ryan ran to the door with the boiling water, but he stopped short of entering. He suddenly felt like an intruder and that it wasn't his place to watch. He listened from outside the closed door.

  "I see the head!" said Abigail. "One more push, girl. On three! One . . . two . . . threeeee!"

  The scream that followed was unlike anything Ryan had ever heard in his entire life. It was filled with pain, filled with relief, filled with life, itself. And then there was only crying-- a baby's crying. Hannah was crying too, but these were happy tears.