Page 85 of After 5
“Jen’s right. He enlisted as an eighteen-year-old, but he’s only twelve, and well…maybe Jen is supposed to save him,” Gertie said.
“Twelve?” Marco’s eyes grew wide. “I’ll go alone.”
“No, we go together.”
Marco opened his mouth to argue, but I cut him off.
“Your gift to slow time will last longer if you focus, and I’ll help the boy. Gertie can stay here with…” I tipped my head toward the soldier Marco had knocked unconscious, who didn’t look more than a teenager himself. “You can alert us to anything suspicious.”
Gertie raised her eyebrows.
Point taken.
“Two grown men holding hands squat walking across the battlefield won’t look suspicious at all.” Marco pulled his forage cap down on his head. “Let’s motor.”
We crouch walked to the open area, and I dropped to the ground. Marco did the same next to me. My inner voice kissed her rosary and crossed herself.
“Hold my hand,” he said, lacing his fingers in mine. He reached up and touched the key hidden beneath the dirty collar of his uniform. We crouch walked toward the boy. Time warped and a few sharpshooter bullets whizzed over our heads in slow motion. I refrained from looking to my right to see if any connected with the men protecting the newly captured area.
We stopped twice so Marco could reset. His gift only lasted minutes. I did as he instructed. We passed a man face down, shot in the back of the head. Marco relieved the dead man of his gun and haversack.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m not walking around Gettysburg unarmed. He doesn’t need it anymore.” He gestured at the man.
Jake was right. This wasn’t a smart idea. We’d save the boy, find Caiyan, and get the hell out of Dodge. Whatever Mortas was doing here, I wasn’t sure I wanted to stay and find out. On our third rest stop, a group of soldiers passed us, climbed the fence, and, guns in hand, ran toward the north end of the field.
Marco jerked his head toward the boy. “Almost there.”
Our last crab crawl attempt reached the boy. I released Marco’s hand to examine him. Blood soaked his left pants leg and his gun rested on the other side of the fence waiting for him to make the climb over. With the letter clutched in his hand, he blinked up at us as I spoke to him.
“I’m a doctor,” tiny white lie, “I’m going to move your leg off the fence.” His dark hair, wet with sweat, stuck to his grimy, angelic face. When his big brown eyes focused on me, he spoke.
“Thank you, sir, but I fear I’m done for.”
A bullet tore through the top stake of the fence and he winced. “It don’t hurt much.”
“Shut it, I’m helping you down.” When I had freed his leg, he slumped to the ground. A small wound to his upper arm had stained the sleeve of his uniform.
“You’re going to be fine,” I told him.
“The cannister got me. I felt a piece bite my leg, my shoulder. I wrote this here letter for my momma, would you see she gits it?”
I folded the letter and tucked it into his pocket. “You’re not going to die today.” He smiled, the smile of an innocent boy. One that should be at home playing with his dog, dreaming about the neighbor girl, having his mother kiss him goodnight.
It would be impossible for Marco and me to carry the boy to safety. I wouldn’t ask Marco to risk his life, again. A few yards behind me, medics transported an injured soldier on a makeshift stretcher off the battlefield. I looked down at the boy. “You shouldn’t walk on that leg. We’re going for help, stay here.”
“Thank you, sir.” I handed him his gun and we copied our squat walk, hand in hand, toward Gertie.
A cannon blast hit behind us, yanking us apart and knocked us off our feet.
“Marco?” I called out, but the dense smoke blinded me.
“Jennifer, keep low and make your way toward my voice.”
He was in front of me. I hunkered down, moving quickly along the fence line. Men lay dead around me. Dirt, grime, and blood crusted their faces. The ground softened under my boots, and I ignored the reason why. The air, thick with smoke, forced me to cough. I covered my mouth with my hand and kept moving.
The smoke cleared momentarily. Marco waited next to Gertie in the trees, using their trunks for cover. He beckoned me toward him. Another cannon fired, and they were lost in the fog of destruction.
