Dark Chaos (# 4 in the Bregdan Chronicles Historical Fiction Romance Series) (67 page)

             
“Thank God,” Matthew breathed.

             
“Don’t be excited,” Anderson snapped.  “Nothing will be change.  They’re letting a few relief supplies filter through to Belle Island, but nothing will be any different.  They haven’t scheduled any prisoner exchanges.  The guards have been told to look like they’re easing up but to watch us like hawks.”

             
Matthew groaned.  “We’re so close.”

             
“Yeah,” Anderson said grimly.  He turned to walk away.  “I’ll let you know when it’s safe again.”

             
Matthew spent the rest of the day staring out the window at the empty lot they were digging toward.  When Anderson strolled by in the afternoon, he called him over.  “I’ve been thinking.  We can’t stop work on the tunnel now.”

             
“The guards will be watching us too close,” Anderson protested.  “It will be too risky.”

             
“It will be more risky not to keep digging,” Matthew insisted.  “Those guards will be sticking their noses into everything.  Sooner or later they’re going to find our tunnel.  I, for one, am not willing for all of our work to be undone.  Besides,” he said, “if we lie back now, the men will get discouraged again.  Too many of them are just hanging on.  I know they all came back after they saw how well the third tunnel is going, but it wouldn’t take much to make them give up again.”

             
“Let them give up,” Anderson snorted.  “We don’t need them.”

             
“No,” Matthew agreed quietly.  “But they need us.  They’re counting on us.”

             
Anderson leaned back and studied him.  “You have a plan, don’t you?”  He smiled slightly.  “I should have known.  What is it?”

             
“Keep the men working. But only at night when there is the least chance of detection.”  Matthew took a deep breath.  “I’m going to go down there and work around the clock.”

             
Anderson stared at him.  “Come again?”

             
“It’s the only way!”  Matthew insisted, swallowing the fear he felt at being alone in
Rat Dungeon
again.  He had thought it through.  If they were going to make it out of there, they were going to have to take drastic action.  He was the only one who had lived down in the dungeon.  As much as he abhorred the idea, he knew he could stand it if freedom was waiting just on the other side. 

             
“You won’t be able to do it,” Anderson said flatly.  “I know what it’s like down there.”  He leaned forward.  “We’ll find another way.”

             
Matthew shook his head stubbornly.  “There’s not another way.  Look, Anderson, I’m going to be free.  I’m getting out of this place.  If no one else comes with me, that’s fine.  But I’m going to dig that tunnel and escape.”  He glared at his friend.  “Are you with me or not?”

             
Anderson stared at him then suddenly grinned.  “You’re the toughest newspaper reporter I’ve ever met.”  Then he reached out and grasped his hand.  “We’ll take four men down there tonight,” he promised. 

             
Matthew nodded.  “Others of the men can answer for them at roll call.  Someone different can answer for me every time.  That way it will keep them guessing.”

             
“What are you going to do if the guards go down into the hole?”

             
Matthew shrugged.  “I guess I’ll figure that out when the time comes.” 

One week later, Matthew leaned against the cellar wall and stared at the tunnel they were building.  They had managed to conceal it fairly well behind a loose lattice of boards that they stuffed every morning with dirt, but close inspection could not help but reveal it.   He shifted weight as a rat scurried past his leg and nibbled at the food Anderson had brought down for him the night before. 

              Matthew knew he was close to the end of his endurance.  His body ached from eighteen hours of digging a day.  He allowed himself somewhere between four to five hours of sleep a day, grabbed in snatches when he thought he was safe from investigating guards.  Anderson brought him food, but Matthew was burning it off at a much faster rate than he was ingesting it.  Hunger gnawed at his stomach.  He was taking in his belt every few days.  It was the loneliness, though, that was sapping his energy.    Except for the five hours the men came down from upstairs, he spent every hour of the day completely alone.  Buried in the tunnel, he sometimes had to fight to convince himself anyone was still alive in the world. 

             
“It’s worth it!” he whispered fiercely, more to hear a human voice than to convince himself.  His burning desire to escape had not diminished even a tiny bit - if anything the passion burned brighter, fueled by every box of dirt he shoved out of the tunnel.   He took another bite of biscuit and chewed it slowly to make it last as long as possible.  As he ate, he allowed himself to imagine all the things that would be waiting once they had reached freedom. 

             
The clanking of the door leading down to the cellar jerked him back to the present.  Matthew bolted upright, his pulse racing but his mind calm.  Moving quickly but carefully, he dashed to the far corner away from the tunnel and pulled the straw aside.  Seconds later, when the first guard descended the stairs, Matthew was crouched in the small hole he had dug.  The straw was pulled back over it in what he hoped was a convincing fashion.

             
“I hate this place!” one of the guards complained. 

             
“Yeah, well, the commander said to check every single inch of this prison.  Word has filtered through that a big escape is planned,” another guard snapped.  “The faster we do it, the faster we can get out of this hole.”  The revulsion was evident in his voice. 

             
“I haven’t heard anything about an escape,” the first guard argued.  “I heard some kind of rumor that the Federals were going to try some big breakout.”  He chuckled.  “Let ‘em come.  We’ll be ready for them.”

             
Matthew sucked in his breath then froze, afraid even that small sound could be detected.  His mind raced.  Was Lincoln sending down men to set them free?

             
“Oh sure,” the other guard scoffed.  “Do you know what kind of chaos would be set loose in this town if all these prisoners were let out?  I’m plenty worried,” he growled.  “General Lee and his men are too far away to stop it if something big happens.”

             
That seemed to shut the first guard up.  Matthew strained to hear.  He could hear their footsteps rustling the straw, but it was impossible to tell where they were.  Suddenly he heard their footsteps stop.  He held his breath and prayed they had not discovered their tunnel.

             
“What’s this?” the first guard called sharply.

             
Matthew groaned silently.  After all their hard work, it looked like the game was up.

             
“Looks like old moldy bread,” the other guard snapped.  “We’re supposed to be looking for an escape route, not lunch.”

             
“Yeah?” the first guard growled defensively.  “Where’d it come from?  There hasn’t been prisoners down here for over a month,” he argued. 

             
“One of the prisoners left it.”

             
Matthew could almost see the guard shrugging his shoulders.  He cursed himself as he realized he must have let some food drop from his bag at some point.

             
“The rats would have eaten it,” the first guard insisted stubbornly.

             
Matthew shifted his weight slightly, trying to ease the cramps ripping through his stiff muscles, then froze when the straw rustled above him. 

             
“What was that?” the first guard exclaimed.

             
Matthew’s blood ran cold when he heard footsteps approaching him.  If he hadn’t been so frightened, he might have admired the man’s intelligence and perseverance.  He stopped breathing when the footsteps halted just inches from the edge of his crudely concealed hole. 

             
A long silence followed. 

             
“It was one of your rats,” the other guard said in disgust.  “Look, do you see any kind of an escape route out of here?” he snapped.

             
“No,” the first guard said slowly.

             
“Neither do I!  And I’ve had about all of
Rat Dungeon
I care to experience.  We came.  We looked.  We didn’t find anything.”  The angry tirade halted for a brief second then continued in a patronizing voice.  “Unless you’d like to go up and tell the commander you found a stale piece of bread.  That will really impress him.”

             
“It could mean something,” the first guard insisted, but the enthusiasm was gone from his voice.  “All right,” he finally growled.  “Let’s get out of here.”  He paused.  “I always felt sorry for the bums that had to stay down here.”

             
“They got what they deserved,” the other guard sneered.

             
Matthew longed to lunge out of the straw, take him captive, and then leave him in the hellish dungeon for a few months.  It wouldn’t take him long to be singing a different tune.  He made himself stay absolutely still.

             
“Maybe,” the other guard said thoughtfully.  “Still, I’m glad it wasn’t me.”

             
“If we don’t get upstairs and give our report, it may be,” the other man snapped.  “Get up those stairs.”

             
Matthew waited several minutes after he’d heard the door slam shut before he staggered to his feet and threw himself onto the ground.  Sweat poured from his face, and his breath came in shallow gasps.  He knew exactly how close he had come to being discovered. 

When Anderson and his men arrived that night, Matthew was waiting for them.  “We’ve got to speed things up,” he said urgently.  “The guards suspect something.  They’re poking around everywhere.”  He quietly told them what
had happened, his voice barely above a whisper. 

             
“They’ve been poking around upstairs, too,” Anderson acknowledged grimly.  “But they won’t ever think about pulling the stove out in the kitchen.”

             
“Yeah, well if those two guards who were down here today had had better lights they would have found our tunnel.”  Matthew knew his voice was desperate, but he couldn’t help it.  The strain was wearing on him.

             
Anderson reached out and put a steadying hand on his arm.  “I’ve been doing some calculating.  According to my figures, we should be there.”

             
Matthew stared at him, his numbed mind not registering Anderson’s words.  “Be where?”

             
“Be in the lot behind the fence,” Anderson grinned triumphantly.  “I say we go up tonight.”