The Lincoln Penny
Page 12
The men make Jane think of a pack of hungry wolves, circling, ready to lunge. She is all psyched to fight if she has to. They don’t want to mess with a 21st century girl! Wait a minute. Jane realizes the sergeant just said something. The words finally begin to register.
OMG! Unbelievable! He said we could go! Thank God! With confidence restored, “I’ll need that.” Jane holds the palm of her hand out impatiently and stares the sergeant down, enjoying her first taste of power over these monsters.
Boston scowls. He’s not happy at all, but for damn sure he’s not ready to tangle with a Brigadier General. There is no question about the official signature and seal on the paper, Q.A. Gillmore, Brig. Gen. Vols. Commanding U.S. forces, Tybee and Cockspur Islands, Georgia.
Jane waits and watches with bated breath as the sergeant, the alpha of the pack, struggles with his decision. The man lifts the black visor of his blue forage cap to scratch his greasy head and smooth his uncombed crop of stringy hair. Filthy, probably covered in lice, and drunk to boot. Infuriatingly, he takes a slow sweeping look at the paper one last time and finally, when he’s good and ready, determines to hand it back.
It takes two tries for Jane to retrieve it. With an ugly yellow grin and bloodshot eyes squinting up at her, the sergeant jerks the sheet out of her grasp on the first attempt to capture it. In time, he holds it out once more, which gets a lot of wicked snickering from the others. On the second try, Jane has to tug a good bit to pull it out of the man’s fingers, leaving a black smudge-mark across one corner of the page. Obnoxious bastard!
There is an inert pause, and finally, “Let ‘em through!” With this last order from their sergeant, the pack grudgingly backs away. Boston slaps the mule’s backside hard and ruthless with his hat. “GET ON!”
The poor startled mule makes a loud shrieking sound that makes Jane jump. She grabs up hard on the reins, managing somehow to clamp the paper in her fist and keep herself from almost toppling out of her seat. One last terrible scare and they’re moving forward again at a right quick pace. The mule is as anxious to be off as its passengers.
Once they are out of sight, Jane takes her first ragged deep breath and wipes the sweat from her face with her sleeve. “Okay. That wasn’t so bad,” she consoles with a controlled giggle on the verge of hysteria. Her mouth is as dry as cotton and her heart is beating practically out of her chest. “Are y’all right Jimmy?”
“Me? Couldn’t be better.” Jimmy’s voice cracks with exhilaration as he climbs over the back of the bench and pries the reins from Jane’s visibly shaking hands. “Weren’t you somethin’, ma’am? Never seen anything like it before! You handled yourself as good as any man. Better!” Jimmy watches his hero’s brave persona melting away before his eyes and he is suddenly worried for her. “Take it easy now, Miss Jane. I’ll pull over as soon as we’re clear. It’s over, you’re safe now.”
“No! Let’s get out of here. I’ll be okay. Keep going. Please, let’s just keep going.” Jane crosses her arms and buries her trembling hands under her armpits trying to still the serious mental and physical effects of their experience. Jimmy has taken the reins in one hand and put his young arm around her, trying to help calm her state of mind. It is all he knows to do.
Jane doesn’t stiffen from his touch, but leans into it a little, letting Jimmy know his gesture is nice and helpful. It is. She tries hard to sort her thoughts. She’d never been in such danger. Nor had she ever been forced to defend herself like that before. Never in her life! But she had stood her ground. She had won and it filled her with a dark, untamed sense of triumph. She rests in the feeling a minute and makes an effort to slow her breathing. Jimmy’s right, it’s behind them. With her sights set on Savannah, Jane is much encouraged. If that’s the worst of it, then there’s a good chance they will make it after all.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Along a lonely shoreline, Jane observes a pod of dolphins rolling gracefully in the channel. She and Jimmy are more out in the open now and it makes both of them uneasy. The sand is soft and it’s slow going. There have been many times the two have had to walk it, tugging the mule along. At least they haven’t run into anyone else since their encounter with the federals. Sadly, that doesn’t mean they are in the clear. Not by any means.
The sun has made its way across a cloudless April sky. The trip has been difficult. Jane is burnt. Every bone in her body is aching, every unused muscle suffering from strain. She has a thirst the canteen, she and Jimmy share, can’t satisfy. And what about the poor mule? The poor thing has had brief rests, but only a few sips of their water from Jimmy’s hand. It is scarcely enough to wet his mouth.
Jane is worried about the poor animal and glad for an excuse to break the silence. “Do you think he’s thirsty?” She nods in the direction of the mule.
“That ole mule? Heck no. He can go a long ways without drinkin’. Ya see they don’t sweat none, ma’am, so it seems they don’t need much water. Sturdy as they come. Why a good draft mule can pull its own weight an easy twenty-five miles a day. Maybe more. This here one looks like it’s been worked a might.
“How can you tell?”
“Lots of time in the harness has thickened the skin under his collar. He’s all calloused around the shoulders from pulling heavy loads. Yep. An ole mule is a mighty handy thing. My pa once toll’ me the injuns think so highly of ‘em, they are willin’ to trade two horses for a mule. Two horses! Imagine that.”
Jimmy slows the wagon a bit to maneuver around an old tree stump. One of many around them. Dead scrubby trees tipped on their sides and bleached silver by the sun with their massive tangled roots exposed, looking like a scene from Planet of the Apes.
“Fort Jackson is just up ahead, ma’am.” Jimmy gestures a direction.
Jane had been afraid to even hope this would end. She shades her eyes, but can’t see anything yet. The landscape has changed a bit. It’s woodsier. Low-growing shrubs and green patches are random here and there. In the distance she can see a line of live twisting over trees. Maybe they’ll be out of this horrid marsh and on solid dry land soon. “Once we get to Fort Jackson, how much farther is Savannah do you think?”
“Not much more than a mile or so.”
“Once we get to Savannah, how can we find out where the Hopkins’ family lives?” How do you find out where someone lives without looking it up on your phone and using GPS? There is no address on the note Matthew had written. When did she start using his name, Matthew? Well, it feels more normal. It’s just so weird with all the miss, ma’am, and mister stuff, much less having to address the ranks in the military. It may be polite, but it’s just too much for her.
Jimmy ponders her question. “Folks know. We’ll ask around when we get there.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
“Huh?”
Bryce dives for his iPhone on the nightstand, knocking it onto the floor. “Dammit!” The lamp. He reaches for the pull and blinks around the room trying to adjust his eyes. Was that Jane? He distinctly heard her call his name right before he was wrenched awake by an explosion, two, in tandem. Loud. Boom, boom in quick succession! What the hell! A bomb! His drowsy mind flips to a flashbulb memory of 9/11, hijacked jetliners filled with passengers ramming into the twin towers, icons crashing down in a hellish storm of glass, steal and smoke. Bryce listens. Everything is quiet. He retrieves his phone from the carpet. Two o’clock.
What WAS that? God I hope a plane didn’t crash somewhere. Bryce gets up to investigate. He goes to the front bedroom window and peeks through the blinds onto a dimly lit street below. Everything is just as still as can be.
Maybe a transformer blew. That could have possibly made a thunderous sound like that. Bryce could swear the whole apartment shook. A sonic boom maybe, like jets breaking the sound barrier? Not likely, not around here. Cars are parallel parked along the curb. Surely the kind of concussive force he heard would have set off all their alarms, or send people running out into the street. Had to be dreaming it. Had to.
Nothing seems to be wrong. He waits and listens for a while to be doubly sure everything’s okay and until he can relax enough to get back to sleep. Bryce has an early Saturday morning class he can’t miss. And he was hoping to get some study time in before another long night at the hospital. Rest was a precious commodity these days and he only has a couple of good hours left before he swipes the snooze button on his phone.
The alarm had gone off much too soon. Bryce steps out of the shower, grabs a towel and heads over to the vanity. Rising steam had formed small droplets that are working their way down the bathroom mirror in a race to get to the bottom. The phone on the counter alternates between vibrating and playing the raspy breathing sounds of Darth Vader on life support.
Bryce dries his hands and checks the screen. What would Art Peterson be calling for? He answers.
Jane’s dad is beside himself. Jane is missing. Disappeared. Her friend Sophie is okay, but in the hospital for observation. She was the only one with her. It happened last night . . . on her birthday. They are looking for her. Police are searching the fort and surrounding area now. There’s some talk they might dredge the moat, maybe the river too. Jane’s mother is under heavy sedation. Art knew Bryce would want to know since he and Jane are so close.
Before he ends the call, Bryce promises he will get to Savannah as quickly as he can.
“Holy crap!” Bryce pounds his fist on the countertop, “I knew it! She called for me. I heard her.” Sure as rain he knew something was up. That freak of an episode last night that jarred him awake, it had to have something to do with it. Left him with a weird, nagging feeling he wasn’t able to shake. Bryce thinks miserably, you’re supposed to be fine. He had just talked to Jane Thursday before she left on her weekend event with her reenactor friends.
Christ Jane, what’s happened to you? Bryce spins through his contacts and selects the phone number of the hospital. His life is on hold for the time being. He doesn’t know exactly how much help he can be, but he has to get to Savannah. And fast!
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
“The key! It has to be the key.” Sophie’s pain is raw, transparent. This is only the second time Bryce has seen her. They had briefly talked a couple of days ago, before her release from the hospital.
Bryce has been really busy since he got to Savannah. He had spent a number of hours at the fort and talked to the police detective assigned to the case. He had inquired about Mrs. Peterson, who remains with friends under heavy sedation, and helped console Jane’s broken father. The detective told Bryce, the girl’s father is about to drive him crazy, but quickly added, he most certainly understood. He couldn’t imagine losing his daughter like that. Mr. Peterson is holding up as well as can be expected, and has taken a room at a bed and breakfast in town to be close. His brother, Uncle Billy, was able to stay a few days, but has already headed back to Texas.
There’s no trace of Jane anywhere. Her disappearance has everyone completely baffled. All they found was the cape Sophie had loaned her, which was caught tightly in the hinges of a door where the incident is said to have occurred. They literally had to tear it out. No blood, no fresh prints other than Jane’s, no evidence of foul play. There is a burn streak on the floor through the doorway they told Bryce had probably happened a long time ago.
The park ranger said the room was unstable. Locked up, never used because of loose and broken planks in the flooring and deteriorating brick and mortar from constant moisture. With the recent slump in the economy, funds were tight and the park service postponed all restoration projects at Pulaski. So that part of the fort remained unsafe for tourists and closed to the public. They said no one had been in or out and they had no idea how Jane was able to access the room in the first place, if in fact she had. The fire department said the door was shut and locked tight when they arrived and emergency rescue, doing their job, ended up dismantling the hinges to gain access before anyone was able to show up with a key. From the desperate cries of their only witness, they were sure they would find a non-responsive Jane trapped on the inside. But that didn’t happen. She was nowhere to be found.
Staying busy is the only way Bryce can keep his own sanity. He is heartsick about losing Jane and he hopes he can help in some way. How, he has no idea. A week, week and a half, is about the max he can be excused from school and work, and that’s really pushing it. He only has a short time to try and make sense out of this whole thing, whatever it is. Sophie insisted on seeing him, although now he’s not so sure it’s a good idea. She is having a really hard time. It is plain on her face.
Sophie draws a shaky breath and begins again. “I didn’t tell them, you know. What good would it do anyway! It’s all crazy. Complete madness!”
Bryce studies the stunning blond with her hair twisted up high in a scrunchy. There are noticeable smudges under her lovely dove-gray eyes lined with thick dark lashes. Sophie’s husband Ben is hovering behind the orange sectional in the background, deeply concerned, but keeping his distance with a great amount of self-control.
Sophie is grieving over the loss of her friend and thinks she’s responsible in some way. For Bryce, it is more a simmering fury. How could this happen? Jane has always been so sensible and cautious, and to just vanish into thin air like this. It totally baffles the mind. Her parents are devastated. No one can believe it. He’s not going to believe it!
“Jane told me about that key.” Bryce coaxes in his practiced doctor-to-patient technique. “So, she had the key and . . .” Sophie’s fragile condition is a concern. She could snap and he doesn’t want to be the cause. He doesn’t want to push her too far, but she did ask him to come. Bryce looks up at Ben.
“Soph, this is what you want, right honey?” Ben steps forward, though not enough to interfere. It’s the first time she’s opened up to anyone about the incident and he’s anxious to see if it will help.
Ben tries to explain, thinking this guy is a med student so it should come as no surprise. “Since Sophie came home from the hospital she’s been having trouble sleeping. She’s having bad headaches.” Ben hesitates when he gets the look from his wife, but continues on anyway.
“You know it’s true, honey. It could be from that nasty bump you got, but it’s not getting any better you know. When she is able to rest, she is plagued with nightmares.” Ben gets another warning glance from Sophie that tells him he’s said enough. If he were to talk on, he would also mention the number of times he has been startled out of sleep by his wife’s piercing screams, followed by fits of sobbing. It is so unlike her, so totally not normal, and it is scaring him half to death. He doesn’t know what to do for her except seek help, though she’s not having any part of it. Every time he even comes close to suggesting the idea, Sophie shuts him down.
Bryce catches the quick exchange between husband and wife. “You don’t have to talk about this if you’re not ready, Sophie. I would understand completely. We can drop it right this minute, no harm done. You know, your symptoms are understandable and nothing to be ashamed of. We are all pretty broken up about missing Jane. It’s still so fresh.”
“No. No, I can do this. I want to do this.” Sophie pauses to collect her thoughts. “Yes. The key. The key . . . Jane had it with her . . . it was from the secret compartment in her jewelry box.” Sophie reaches for Bryce, who had moved to sit on the chocolate brown ottoman across from her. Sophie’s hand is cool on his shirtsleeve. “Jane has always told me you are her knight in shining armor . . . always there for her. You need to know this. I don’t know what you can do, but you need to know.”
Bryce waits. It looks like the classic case. He has seen cases like this at the hospital. PTSD, post-traumatic stress disorder caused by a traumatic life event. Patients experience a variety of symptoms from mild to acute, includi
ng intrusive memories or flashbacks and increased anxiety.
He recalls an elderly lady, a sixty-nine year old female, who was brought in for treatment last year while he was on duty in the ER. The woman’s husband had committed suicide a few months prior and before she could even begin to recover from the shock and mental obstacles of dealing with her loss and being alone, she became the victim of a vicious home invasion. She was raped and robbed.
When rescue first brought her into the hospital she was delusional and emotionally distraught. Three months later, Mrs. Spearman’s nephew brought her back in with a laceration to the head, after a fall from what he called her night-running dreams. The nephew acted annoyed. He thought his aunt had shown signs of improvement. He worried she would injure herself worse next time.
With no one to help with Mrs. Spearman’s care, a decision was made to move the patient to the rehab center next to the hospital where she could be monitored. Unexpectedly, but common to patients diagnosed with PTSD, her condition steadily worsened and she became extremely ill with psychotic episodes and severe paranoia, imagining people were in her room to do her harm. Bryce followed Mrs. Spearman’s case because he had a personal interest and hated to see an otherwise capable woman rendered powerless. Eventually, the proper medications were prescribed to help her in recovery, but it took a long time, almost a year, for her to become stable and independently functioning again.
Sophie struggles, visibly upset, “If I tell you this, please promise you won’t think I’m crazy.” She waits soulfully until both men nod their agreement.
“Jane and I had this great day at Pulaski. You should have seen her. I have never seen anyone take to reenacting like she did. At the end of the evening we took a stroll. We were alone. It’s really safe there to walk around, isn’t it Ben? I had suggested she try her key in some of the old gates and doors. Whatever. It was just for fun, honestly. I didn’t know.”