Underground

by Gayle O'Brien

  She looked at Sanchez with widened eyes.

  He laughed in amazement. “Didn’t she tell you? Little missy has been trying to taunt me with photos. I kept on telling her to knock it off, that she was only making it worse. But she wouldn’t listen.”

  He leant over and blew smoke into her face. “She’ll come back eventually. And I’m really looking forward to when she does.” He raised his gun to hit her again but was stopped by the sound of a siren.

  Annie covered her ears as the siren pierced her eardrums. She craned her neck: where was Theo? Sanchez’s footsteps came out the front door and down the porch stairs. Annie wished she had the tools to kill him. She watched him run towards Theo. What was he going to do to him?

  She knew she didn’t have time to find out. She shoved the window open, then threw her backpack in before lifting herself through the gap. Her mother was in the center of the room, slumped and bound to a chair.

  “Mom,” she yelled over the noise of the siren. “Are you okay? Where’s Dad?”

  Her mother’s words came slowly through her swollen mouth. Annie struggled to hear.

  “He went … He’s gone.”

  Annie pulled Elijah Fabre’s knife from her boot and cut the ties.

  “Come on.” She pulled her mother up.

  “But …”

  “Listen. Sanchez will be back in here soon. We need to be ready when he does.”

  “What the hell have you done?” Sanchez yelled, one hand on his gun.

  Theo held his hands in the air. Sanchez punched him in the face. As Theo fell to the ground he felt his jaw might come through his skin.

  Sanchez pulled his gun, yelling over the siren. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Sorry,” Theo shouted, even though it was agony to speak. “I was just looking and it went off.”

  “You’re where you shouldn’t be. Now get the hell out of here!”

  “Yes, sir,” Theo said, and got up. Sanchez reached into the car and turned off the noise. Silence surrounded them.

  “You don’t have to pull a gun on me,” said Theo, rubbing his face. “It’s just, we don’t get many Virginia State Police cars around here. You visiting my friends?”

  Sanchez lowered the gun. “You know the girl who lives here?”

  “Sure. She was going into my family’s store as I was coming out. You want me to take you there?”

  Sanchez paused, unsure of which way to go. “No. Tell her … tell her …” He shook his head. “Just do as I say and go.” He hurried towards the porch.

  Theo had failed. He had to do something else to prevent Sanchez from going back into the house.

  “By the way,” he yelled. Sanchez stopped on the porch and turned. “You look just like your photos.”

  Sanchez raised his gun and fired.

  “Theo!” Annie screamed when she heard the shot. She ran to the front window. Sanchez chased Theo around the police car, a schoolboy’s game in which Theo was faster on his feet. She had to get Sanchez away from Theo, and fast. She grabbed the Bible out of her backpack, pulled the memory stick out of her pocket and threw the front window open.

  “Hey, Sanchez!” she yelled. He stopped. Theo ducked behind the car. She waved the memory stick in the air like a lighter.

  “You want Dad’s pictures? They’re all right here on this memory stick.” She cupped her hand around the Bible and held it up. “If you shoot him, this iPhone can make my little Facebook page public right now.”

  Sanchez shot at the window, splintering the frame. He pointed the gun at Theo and opened the back door of the car.

  “In here, you son of a bitch. Now!” Theo did as he was told. Sanchez slammed the door. Annie grabbed her father’s manila folder out from behind the couch and left a trail of photos behind her as she and her mother went downstairs.

  Sanchez burst through the front door with his gun drawn. “Where are you, you little bitch?” he bellowed. He looked down.

  Underneath his feet were dozens of photos. He was in every single one. There was one of him in a coffee shop in Alexandria, handing a brown bag of money over to one of his contacts at Border Patrol. There was one of him standing beside the white van that he used to transport the girls from state to state. Another picture showed him emerging from one of their base houses in Richmond, adjusting his belt.

  “I’ll kill him. All of them.”

  The photos were strewn everywhere. They thinned out at the back of the room and he walked over them slowly.

  Then he saw the door to the basement. It creaked in its hinges as he opened it. A photo had been placed on each stair.

  Who to kill first, he thought, the mother or the daughter? Both looked down on him, like he was no better than the dirt beneath their feet. All he wanted was a place where he felt at home. He’d never had one as a boy, not with his mother letting the boyfriend of the moment bankrupt them and force them to move. The army was the first place he felt like he belonged and he clung to his army buddies like a leech. Shame only a few of them knew the meaning of family.

  Sanchez made slow, deliberate steps down the stairs. He stopped on the second from the bottom, where the memory stick sat crushed on top of the pile of photos.

  “Why has she …”

  Sanchez had no time to think. All he knew was that he was losing his balance as the stairs on which he stood were pushed out from under his feet.

  Annie’s father was nearly home. Or rather, nearly back at what his wife and daughter had called home for the past few weeks. It was Sunday and if one thing was obvious as he walked through the quiet streets of Battenkill, it was that this was not a town that operated on the Lord’s Day. He had tried – and failed – to get in touch with his contact at the FBI on the one payphone he found in town. He got his messaging service. He left a lengthy explanation as to why he couldn’t give him the evidence yet and told him he’d try again once he and his family had left Battenkill and found somewhere else to hide.

  The next most pressing need was to find his daughter. He’d waited up for her all night. She couldn’t have gone far. He’d half hoped he’d find her in town, but it did not happen. His wife mentioned a boy from the store down the road who had tried to fix the washing machine. That boy was his next port of call.

  As he walked back to the house he looked up at the mountains. He’d always wanted to visit New England. But not like this. Maybe one day, when this was all over, he and his family could come back and see the mountains in autumn.

  He turned the corner to the house. His jaw dropped.

  Sanchez’s car.

  He ran to the house. As he did, a muffled noise caught his attention. He looked around and found its source.

  In the back of Sanchez’s car, a teenage boy was banging at the window, yelling to be let out.

  As soon as Sanchez’s feet hit the bottom step, Annie and her mother, waiting in the hidden room, pushed the two stairs as hard as they could. Sanchez lost his footing as the ground was literally pushed out from under him. He reached for a railing, but there wasn’t one. He landed on his behind and dropped his gun. His feet dangled through the gap left by the stairs. Before he realized what was happening, two sets of hands were pulling at his ankles, then at his calves.

  “Let … me…. go.”

  He fell onto the floor on his stomach and grabbed at the jagged concrete. He didn’t know who was pulling him or where they were trying to pull him, but he was dammed if he’d let them win. He kicked at the hands and felt his boot hit the side of a face.

  He pulled his body weight forward, and the mother and her daughter came out of their hiding place, still grabbing at his feet and legs. He kicked the mother in the chest, cracking her rib, and she stumbled backwards into a corner of the room. The daughter came at him, flailing and screaming.

  Annie knew from the moment they began trying to pull Sanchez into Samantha’s room that she and her mother could not win this battle. He was too strong and too angry; they were too weak and scared. But it was too late.
Their ill-conceived plan had been executed, and there was nothing else to do but keep on fighting and hope that the gun, wherever it had dropped, was out of his reach.

  She’d been hitting at him for a few seconds? Maybe more? All she knew was that time came to a standstill when she saw him pull back his fist and level it straight between her eyes. She felt herself fall to the ground and all light in the room went out.

  “Who the hell are you?” said Annie’s father, opening the door of Sanchez’s car.

  “I’m Theo,” he said, jumping out and catching his breath. “I tried to stop him. But he shut me in. And now he’s got them.”

  “They’re both in there with him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sweet Jesus,” he said. He started to run towards the house.

  “Wait!” said Theo, opening the passenger-side door. “Sanchez’s radio. We can call for help.”

  He handed it to Annie’s father. “You’re going to have to tell them who you are.”

  Annie’s mother could not move out of the corner where she’d landed. It hurt too much. Her chest felt ripped apart. Stars flashed in her peripheral vision, like fireworks on the 4th of July. She saw Sanchez punch her daughter’s face and helplessly watched as she fell to the floor. Sanchez picked up his gun. He came towards her and raised it.

  “You never liked me,” he said. “You think I didn’t know that every time I went to your pristine little house I didn’t know I wasn’t wanted?”

  “And still you came.”

  “That’s right. It’s called loyalty.”

  “It’s called rude.”

  “You and your perfect little family, a shame it has to end this way.” An awful smile crept across his face. “I’ll miss the enchiladas.”

  “Kill me. I just want it to be over.”

  Sanchez hesitated. He knew it and she knew it. He inhaled and prepared to pull the trigger.

  He didn’t even see it coming. All he felt was the most excruciating pain of his life as Annie thrust Elijah Fabre’s knife into the back of his shoulder. He howled and thrashed, trying to get at the source of his pain. Annie jumped at him and pushed. Her mother did not know where her own strength came from, but she defied the agony in her ribs and got to her feet. Within seconds Annie and her mother had pushed Sanchez into the hidden room, shoved the removable steps back in place and jammed the corner in the divot, making it impossible for him to open it from the inside. Sanchez’s muffled screams and pounding shook the basement. Annie threw her weight onto the stairs, afraid to let go.

  Her father and Theo appeared at the door to the basement. Her father descended first, quickly, and embraced her mother, both of them crying.

  “It’s okay, I’m here,” he said. “I’m here.”

  Annie sat up and knelt in front of the stairs. She placed her hands flat on their surface, wincing at Sanchez’s every sound. Theo came down on to the floor next to her, carefully, as if she might break.

  “Annie?” he said. “Annie, are you okay?”

  Annie dug her fingernails into the wood. “It’s Samantha,” she said. “My real name is Samantha.”

  Chapter 28

  When Samantha awoke, she felt sure the recent weeks had been a dream. The voices of Oma and Chimi floated on the breeze above her. She was being rocked, just like Nessie used to do when she was a little girl. She opened her eyes, expecting to be in bed at Mont Verity. The sun stung her eyes and the air smelled of smoke.

  “I hope they be where they said they be,” she heard Oma say. Samantha squinted into the daylight.

  “Oma?” her voice cracked. It hurt to speak.

  “Miss Sammy?” said Oma. “She awake, Chimi!”

  They helped Samantha sit up. She was on the back of a horse cart, rattling at a steady pace along a dirt road. Milo, the horse slave from her father’s plantation, drove the cart. The sun was high in the sky. Behind them, smoke billowed over the horizon.

  “Here,” said Oma, handing her a canteen. “Drink this.” Samantha took one sip and winced. Her throat was painfully dry and swallowing was instant agony.

  “It gone be like that for a few days, Miss Sammy,” said Oma, gently. Samantha put her hand to her throat. She could feel the dried blood on her skin and the bruising underneath.

  “What’s happening?” she whispered. “How did I get here?”

  Chimi and Oma exchanged looks. “We almost stopping, Miss Sammy. We explain ever’thing then. You rest now.”

  Samantha lay back against the blankets and looked up at the clear blue sky. There were noises in the air that she couldn’t quite make out, like the sound of a cheering crowd muffled by the distance. Soon, trees appeared overhead, their leaves dancing in the gentle spring wind.

  She closed her eyes and let the sun paint red under her eyelids.

  The wagon rattled over uneven ground. They entered a wood. A familiar smell filled the air. Sawdust, Samantha thought. Follow the sawdust. The wagon came to a stop.

  Milo helped Oma and Chimi out of the wagon. Samantha sat up and took his hand.

  “Well, I never thought I’d be seeing you again,” said a cheerful voice.

  It was Jem, standing on the bottom of the steps to his cabin, next to the barn that had been her shelter. It looked bigger in daylight, the woods surrounding it more verdant and alive.

  Samantha came slowly off the wagon and let him embrace her, wishing she had the strength to put her arms around him. She looked at Oma, Chimi and Milo and tried to understand how they’d all come to be here, when she was the one who came here in secret only a few weeks ago. Maybe she had died after all and this was heaven.

  “There’s someone inside who wants to see you,” said Jem. Samantha took a step towards the barn, but to her surprise, Jem and the rest walked toward Jem’s cabin. Samantha felt unsteady on her feet as she followed. Milo held her gently by the arm and let her up the wooden steps. The front door opened and a figure held out strong, soft arms.

  “Nessie!” Samantha fell into her arms.

  “Oh, Miss Sammy! You here and you safe! Thank the Lord Jesus, he done answered every prayer I ever done said. Now, you come on in and sit down.”

  “Nessie’s made herself at home,” Jem said to Samantha, with a kind, but mischievous grin.

  Milo shut the cabin door.

  “Y’all have a seat,” said Jem. “I’ll get some coffee brewing.”

  Nessie’s fingers hovered over the marks on Samantha’s neck. Tears filled her eyes.

  “I’m alright, Nessie,” she said. “But please, can someone explain how and why you’re all here. I don’t know if I’m dreaming or if I’m dead. Or both.”

  Nessie, Oma, Chimi and Milo all looked at each other, unsure of who should speak.

  Finally, Nessie said, “We free, Miss Sammy.”

  “You’re free?”

  “That’s right. Your father done set us free.”

  “When?”

  “Yesterday.”

  “But why?”

  The four again exchanged glances. “Well,” said Nessie, “we like to think it something he gonna do anyway, but I think Moses done convinced him when she tell him of her plan.”

  “Moses? She’s here?”

  Oma laughed. “I startin’ to learn that Miss Moses be everywhere.”

  “You mentioned a plan. What plan?”

  “Today’s plan,” said Milo. “Miss Moses work it all out. Once Master Weston know he couldn’t do nothin’ to stop them hanging you …”

  “Wait, Papa tried to stop it?” Samantha’s lower lip trembled at the mention of his name.

  “Of course he did, Miss Sammy,” said Nessie. “He did ever’thing he could to try and get you a reprieve, but they havin’ none o’ that. They say they wanted to make an example of you.”

  “But then Moses come along,” said Milo. “She said maybe that the judge done us a favor making it a public hanging and invitin’ whites and slaves along. So he free us, on one condition.”

  “What was that?”
Samantha asked.

  “That we muster up ever’ Negro we could find, get to your hangin’ and fight.”

  “What do you mean fight?”

  “We was to wait until they pulled the lever on you, Miss Sammy,” said Milo, “and then fight with whatever we could lay our hands on.”

  “Moses done call it an uprisin’,” said Nessie. “And we sure did rise, didn’ we?”

  Nessie, Milo, Chimi and Oma laughed.

  “We done create a riot so big those whites don’t know what hit ‘em,” said Chimi. “Ever’thing destroyed. We done burned that whole courthouse down. When we was leaving, some were even pulling up bits of the railroad track.”

  Jem came in with a pot of coffee and tin cups. “Ah, come on,” he said. “Y’all had some help.”

  “How am I not dead?” said Samantha. “The lever was pulled – I saw it and felt it.”

  “One of Moses’ men, Miss Sammy,” said Oma, “one of her white ones, he were the one tightenin’ the hinge on the trapdoor so that it weren’t gonna let you fall all the way down.”

  “And you wouldn’t have known, Miss Samantha, but my brother was waiting to cut you down,” said Jem. “He was the pastor in the front row, reading your last rites. It took a few seconds for the whites around him to get distracted by all the ruckus, but he got to you as fast as he could.”

  “We had no way of telling you, Miss Sammy,” said Chimi, “but it was probably best that way. To be honest, we weren’t sure we was gonna pull it off.”

  “In a way,” said Jem, “the firing on Fort Sumter did us all a favor. The whites were so distracted, cheering the way they were. They didn’t see it coming. I think some thought it was part of how people were celebratin’ at first.”

  “It was an uprisin’ that was a long time comin’,” said Nessie. “But this started because of what you did for Odus and Amira. For settin’ them free.”

  “Exodus,” said Samantha. “He was there. I saw him.”

  “That’s right, Miss Sammy,” said Nessie. “He the one that took charge of rounding up the Negroes. Of telling them all what you done for him and his sister. Saying that there be lots of whites helping blacks get north and that if they was gone to make an example of you for freeing them, then we owed it to you to show we willing to fight.”