by K. R. Rowe
******
Chapter 16 Ghost in the Battlefield
A few miles south, just beyond the Tennessee-Georgia border, 5,300 acres of the old Chickamauga battlefield sprawled neglected. With the passing of years, and the population strain on the fragile economy, the once bustling national park had lost funding, and had fallen to disrepair and decay. The adventurous still went there for picnics and hiking but authorities advised caution. Sometimes the battlefield was dangerous.
Their destination was a perfect spot, for a very private picnic. Wilder Tower stood, like a sentinel, almost a half mile off of LaFayette road. The only public access was a two-mile meandering hiking trail.
Sebastian had chosen this spot carefully. He knew from experience that during the week, it was deserted, and they would be completely alone. He hated the forest. It was dirty and buggy and always made him sweat. He hated to sweat. He hated hiking. It was a loathsome and tiring activity, which he would only endure to get what he wanted. Their hike progressed without incident until a large black bear lumbered aimlessly across their path. It briefly looked their way, unperturbed, and continued to amble slowly down the trail. They stopped and stood silent. Sebastian was relieved when the bear was gone and dropped his hand away from the loaded pistol at his side. He was glad that he had brought it. It may very well come in handy.
"You know," Sebastian said as they strolled along the trail, "they say the battlefield is haunted."
"It is?" she asked.
He smiled when he saw her shudder. Frightened women were easily seduced. "Yes, in just two days, there were thirty seven thousand casualties."
"Wow!"
"Of the casualties, over three thousand men died—right here, in these fields and woods."
"I never knew there were so many," she said.
"The Cherokee name Chickamauga means, 'River of Death'," he said. "It's been told that people have seen apparitions of both Union and Confederate soldiers. Others have seen soldiers’ wives, carrying lanterns and crying, still looking for their lost husbands."
He paused for a moment to check her reaction.
"That is so heartbreaking," she said, "to be doomed to search for your one true love for all eternity."
Not the reaction he was hoping for, he continued, "And some still claim to have seen the spirit of an inhuman creature with glowing eyes and no body. He’s called 'Old Green Eyes'," he said. "Some say he’s a demon."
For a moment, the woods took on an eerie silence.
"Did you hear that?" he asked in a spooky whisper.
Grace nervously scanned the woods with her eyes. "I don’t hear anything."
"Boo!" he shouted and he grabbed her without warning and laughed.
"Sebastian! You scared me!"
The day was beautiful. The cobalt blue sky was clear and cloudless, and a slight warm breeze hissed through the high grasses, and whispered through trees. The distant hum of a buzzing mower and the pungent odor of fresh cut grass came together in a refreshing symphony of sounds and scents.
Grace took a whiff of fresh air and closed her eyes.
Sebastian sneezed. "Wonderful," he said as he slapped at a bug on his neck. "I’ll probably have to wash the grass from my car later."
Usually, Grace would love to take a two-mile hike but unfortunately, she was with Sebastian. She was not sure how he would react to the news she had for him. There was a good chance, that he would be thrilled. Through the years, he treated her like a nuisance—an annoyance, but recently, he was just plain weird. Regardless, she did not want to hurt his feelings.
The thick of the woods transformed almost magically, into a large, rolling green field. Wilder Tower loomed above them, as they stood looking up from the bottom of a knoll. Grace hoped it was open so they could go inside, but the stairs had crumbled in places, and it was too dangerous to venture into.
A volley of honking horns in the distance briefly drew their attention. "I wonder if there is an accident," Grace said. They spread out a cloth and settled themselves under a tree at the base of the tower.
"Look," Grace said, "there’s an old gravel road."
"Yes, that’s Vittetoe Road—"
"Why couldn’t we have driven here?" she asked.
"Unfortunately, it’s closed and in major disrepair. It’s only open to emergency vehicles."
"Oh, well, I think I would rather have hiked anyway," Grace said and smiled.
They sat quietly nibbling their lunch for a while when two white tailed deer made their way to the edge of the clearing. Unaware at first, but then noticing the humans, they quickly bounded with huge leaps across the field, and then, out of sight.
"Did you see them?" she said. "They were so beautiful!"
"Almost as beautiful as you," Sebastian said in a sticky sweet tone as he lounged back with a leer.
His vacant unwavering stare made her uncomfortable.
"It's nice to have a chance to spend time with you," he said. "It's difficult to see you these days."
"I know … I'm really sorry," she said. She felt guilty and realized she had been a little rude lately.
"How's your shoulder?"
"It aches a little when it rains," she said, "but otherwise, it’s healing pretty fast. If not for Alex—"
"Alex? Who is that punk anyway?" His lip curled into a sneer. "He's just a common hick—a dumb redneck!" he said. "He's good for nothing more than shoveling cow manure!"
Grace was shocked and angered by his sudden outburst. "That's not true! Take that back or I'll—"
"Or you'll what?" he asked and laughed. "Slap me? What happened in those mountains Grace?" He continued in a calm even tone. "Did he defile you—"
"Sebastian!"
"Did he make you unclean for your future husband?"
"He would never do that!"
"Grace, my dear," he said. "You must learn to never fornicate with the help."
"We never—"
"You’re in love with him."
"That’s none of your business!"
"Oh, but it is, my angel," he said in a forced level tone, "after all, you do belong to me."
"I'm not marrying you!"
"What!" His one word bellow was unexpected and loud, and it crashed through nearby trees and startled the roosting birds into flight. Then, with a sudden change, his voice fell flat, and an eerie smile crossed his face. "You can't refuse to marry me," he said through gritted teeth. "You're already mine."
The man she thought to be harmless suddenly frightened her. Is this what Joel was warning her about?
"My dad agreed." She scooted away from him. "I can marry who I want."
The haunting glare of his pale gray eyes took on the color of cold hard steel. The expression that washed over his face was void of all emotion. His look was no longer that of a man, but some kind of monster. He threw back his head and emitted a soul-chilling laugh.
"No Grace, you’re mistaken." His blank stare bit into her and a slow deliberate smile crossed his face. "Allow me to rephrase—my angel—now you're mine." She dug her nails deep in his wrists when he viciously grabbed her arms and shoved her hard to the ground. "Stop fighting!" He bared his teeth and snarled like an animal. "You'll enjoy this as much as I will. I promise!" He pinned her to the ground and slid his tongue up her face, leaving a cold slimy trail of saliva from her chin to her eye.
Her terrified screams echoed across the clearing and resonated through the woods.
Alex's desperation to be there yesterday, made the short drive feel endless while LaFayette road morphed into two narrow lanes and squeezed its way into the battlefield. He drove reckless and dangerous, dodging oncoming cars while he blazed past others.
Ahead, blocking his path, a slow moving tractor mowed grass on the roadside. It went oddly unnoticed, as if it were invisible, until it was almost too late. Stomping hard on the brakes, the smoke filled his lungs when the rubber scorched away from his tires. He swerved sideways, sliding only a flea hair away from the back of the tractor. R
ed faced and furious, the frightened man on the seat turned, shook his fist, and yelled in anger. Cursing in frustration, Alex frantically swung the truck over the yellow line trying to get around but a bus nearly struck him head on.
"Shit!" he yelled and he jerked the wheel back to the right, and reluctantly fell in line behind the oversized mower. In a panic, he tried again, but this time faced an endless sea of frantically honking vehicles coming toward him from the opposite direction.
With limited options, he swung the truck toward the grass and accelerated off the right side of the road. Dodging trees and crashing headlong through underbrush, he gained speed in the muddy terrain, and passed the lumbering mower. Like an amusement park ride, a small ditch greeted him when he broke through the dense thicket. It catapulted the truck back onto the road, careening sideways in front of the tractor, before correcting, and leaving a hail of brush, mud, and broken glass hurtling down the pavement behind him.
His truck roared past Sebastian's Porsche parked on LaFayette road but continued on until he was in a direct line with the tower. He could see it a half mile off the road but there was no straight path to it. He would have to make his own. He jumped from his truck before it came to a stop and ran. Halfway there he realized he was unarmed. It didn’t matter, he didn’t need a weapon. All he carried was a dense, heavy fear and it galvanized him to run faster. When he reached the outside edge of the clearing, he heard her terrified screams.
The sight before him burned rage through his veins. It steamed an aura of imminent death from his pores. Today, the killer will die. Sebastian straddled her, and viciously ripped at her clothes, as she kicked and fought to get free. In a burst of fury, he dove into Sebastian. Alex slammed Sebastian’s head to the dirt, and swung repeatedly, until his hand went numb, his knuckles bled, and he no longer felt movement beneath him. Hysterical crying drew his attention away from the bloodied, unconscious man.
Grace, what has he done to you? Anguished, he stood slowly and stepped over Sebastian to go to her.
She was still on her knees trying to get to her feet when she looked up. He saw her eyes slide behind him to Sebastian, and then widen. He heard a familiar click from behind. A horrified scream left her lips when the deafening sound of a gunshot crackled the air around him.
He felt nothing—except a searing pain in his back, and then the cold empty arms of darkness.
*****
Chapter 17 The Healing
The hospital halls were bright and cold and the man stepped back into the shadows of an empty room when he saw them walking his way. Two women flanked her on each side. Her father walked ahead and the redhead's boyfriend behind. A few steps back was a security guard, his face steeped in worry, with a loaded pistol strapped to his side. When she walked by, she looked his way without recognition, and continued her gaze as she passed. He stood frozen, and then winced at her appearance. His amber eyes narrowed in anger and a scowl marred his face. What kind of a deranged man would leave bite-marks like that?
The low buzz of fluorescent lights, and the steady rhythm of his heart, as the monitor kept pace, crept slowly into Alex’s ears. Filling his head were the echoes of nurses, their muttering voices, and the clatter of carts as they wobbled by on the smooth tile floor. He also heard crying. The sound reached into the blackness and tried to pull him to the light. A tormented voice cut a path to follow.
"Please don't die. I can’t live without you."
The light burned his eyes when he cracked open his lids and Grace was there by his side. She sat close to the bed, crying softly, with her face in her hands. The last thing he remembered was the sound of a gunshot.
"Grace," he whispered. "Don’t cry." He placed his hand on her head.
Startled, she looked up, and he flinched at what he saw. He reached up to touch the marks on her face and she lost all control.
"I thought you were dead!" she gasped as she cried. "I wanted to die too!"
She squeezed his swollen bruised hand in hers. He lay helpless and watched as the horror and panic replayed across her face. She was unable to breathe, and was gasping for air when Anne rushed into the room.
"Grace, honey, let's go out in the hall for a little while," Anne cooed gently to her.
"No, no .…" she choked out, and her words trailed away as Anne led her further down the hall.
They left Atticus standing alone and at a loss for words. He sat down in the chair next to the bed and finally spoke, "How do you feel? Do you need anything?"
"I'm ok," he said quietly. "It hurts a little but otherwise, it won’t be long before I’m out of here."
"Alex, we need to talk about what happened. What happened to you, and what happened to her," he said. "It’s not pleasant."
"We're taking her home for the day," Anne said from the doorway. "We'll bring her back tomorrow and see how it goes."
Long after everyone had gone, Matt was still by his side. "Do you feel like talking about it?"
"Sure, why not." Alex replied, surprised that he was up to it.
"I guess you already know—that freak killed himself," Matt said. "The sorry bastard blew his brains out all over Grace." He was blunt and had no apparent feeling for the dead man.
"Yeah, Atticus told me he saw it," Alex said. "He said the police told him to drop his weapon, but he wouldn’t. He just stared at them—blank and emotionless."
"I heard it was pretty nasty," Matt said. "That might mess her up for a long time."
Alex wanted to cry, he wanted to yell, he wanted to hit the wall, and he wanted to hold her in his arms until it all went away. He was furious but could gain no satisfaction. His main concern now was for Grace. "I'll help her through it," he said, "I just thank God she’s ok." He winced in pain when he pushed himself up in bed
"Well, I'm glad he blew his own head off." Matt said. "It’ll keep one of us from having to do it for him."
Matt sat with Alex until late in the night, until the morphine drip took him into a dream free undisturbed sleep. When he woke up the next morning, Grace was by his side.
"Good morning," she said. Her smile was sweet and she looked much calmer than the day before. He reached out to take her shaking hand, and held it tight.
"Does it hurt much?" she asked. Her brows furrowed together in concern.
"Nope, it doesn't hurt much," he said and smiled.
He was lucky. The bullet had missed his spine and vital organs. This was nothing new. While in Québec, a man hallucinating on drugs had shot him in the chest. The man later said he thought Alex was Bigfoot. Ironically, the bullet saved his life. During surgery, the doctors found a heart defect and repaired it while they operated. It was the same heart defect that had killed his dad.
This time, the hospital only kept him three days before they pointed his way toward the door. Atticus insisted he stay in the guardhouse while he recovered, and not alone in his apartment.
Anne was waiting when he arrived.
"I have everything you need within reach," she said while he was settling in, "and I’ll be stopping in to check on you from time to time."
"I really appreciate it, Mrs. Astor."
"We appreciate you, and everything you’ve done for us," she said. "And I’m sure Grace will be here quite often, so don’t be surprised."
"Oh, I’ll be looking forward to that."
"While we’re on the subject of Grace," she said, "there’s something you should know."
Her worried frown alarmed him. "Is something wrong?"
"She has nightmares."
"About what happened?"
"Yes, but it isn’t every night," she said. "I just wanted to let you know. If you hear her, don’t be worried. I have it under control."
"If there’s anything I can do—"
"No, no, you just relax and recover." Anne patted him on the arm. "If it continues, I’ll call the doctor for something to help her sleep."
The first night he heard it, he came instantly to his feet and out the door. He stopped hims
elf outside when he heard her terrified screams. He looked up when the light went on in her room, but the screams continued until finally, she was quiet. Why didn’t Anne tell him, that it was his name she was screaming, over and over?
Most days she was fine except for the shake in her hands. Other days he would find her sitting silent, and alone, staring into space. All was quiet with the next few nights passing without incident. He assumed the medication the doctor had given Grace was working without a problem, until he overheard a telling conversation.
" ... but it makes me sick," he heard Grace say.
"You know what’ll happen if you don't take it," Anne argued. "Sweetheart, you need to sleep."
"I'm better now, Mom, I promise, I'll be ok."
Alex had prepared himself for this night. He was quiet when he let himself into the main house after everyone had gone to sleep. While on duty, he had sat in the house many times at night, but this time was different. He chose a comfortable, heated, leather recliner in the living room, near the bottom of the stairs, and slid himself into it. The wound in his back was painful, and it hurt worse when he lay flat, so this was more than a welcome relief. It was heaven wrapped in leather.
The house was silent for quite some time and he closed his eyes and dozed off. Startled from his sleep, the expected scream shattered the silence of the quiet old house. He was up the stairs and in her room long before Anne had roused from her sleep.
She bolted upright, wide-eyed, and screamed his name in horror.
"Grace!" he said. He held her face in his hands and turned her to look at him.
"Grace, I'm ok, I'm here."
Even then, when she realized it was a nightmare, her hysterics continued. "I thought you were dead!" she wailed.
He put his arms around her and held her close to his chest, while her body shook with emotion.
"I thought you were dead, and I begged him to kill me too!" she choked out.
"Shhh … I'm alive, I'm ok and you're safe," he whispered, and rubbed her back to try to comfort her.
