Passion's Fury (34 page)

Suddenly, her furiously working mind conceived an alternate plan. She smiled faintly, speaking in a tremulous voice. “You could help me if you would, sir. I was being taken to my brother by a soldier who wasn’t being very nice about it. He said it was time for him to go off duty. So I had an escort, don’t you see?” She paused to give him a beseeching gaze, then continued. “Mrs. Palmer arranged everything. You know her, don’t you? Well, she asked this soldier to take me, and he just kept walking faster and faster and wouldn’t wait up for me.” She was nearly sobbing by this time. “I was trying my best to keep up with him, but you called out to me, and now I’ve lost sight of him. Would you be so kind as to take me the rest of the way? I would be so grateful.”

He rolled his cigar from one side of his mouth to the other and hooked his thumbs in his belt. “Well, I don’t have any idea where your brother is, little lady. Let’s go back to Mrs. Palmer’s office, and I’ll find out from her. Then I’ll be glad to take you there.”

“Oh, there’s no time for all that. Don’t you see? She would have taken me herself, but there are so many wounded coming in this morning that everyone is going in a hundred different directions. Don’t
you
have more important things to do than delay me? If my brother dies before I reach him, I…I will never forgive you.” She dabbed at her eyes with the back of her sleeves, and the tears she wiped away were genuine, for desperation was beginning to strangle her.

“I just don’t have no idea where your brother is. In case you haven’t noticed, this is a big hospital.”

“I’m afraid,” she began, letting the tears go on and stream down her cheeks, making no effort to brush them away, “that he’s been taken someplace where they put people who…who might not live…Mrs. Palmer acted quite strange when I spoke with her. She was vague about his exact condition. Then the soldier who was supposed to escort me made some sort of remark about how I’d have to be taken to the most remote area of the hospital compound. Mrs. Palmer looked quite angry when he said that. I got the feeling they were hiding something from me. Why would my brother be taken to a remote area?” She blinked at him in feigned confusion.

For the first time, his expression softened. “You can believe I’ll report that soldier for running off and leaving you. Now you come along with me, because…”—he paused to sigh and give her a look filled with pity—“I’m afraid I know now where he was taking you.”

He held out his arm. She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, praying he would not think her trembling was strange.

They reached the top of the ridge. Below was sprawled a coarse, yellow, sandy soil, bearing scarcely anything but pine frees and broom sedge. In some places the pines were only about five feet high. This, then, was land that had been in cultivation before the war. There were patches of every age, also. Some of the trees were a hundred feet high. In the distance there were fields in which pines were just starting to spring up from the earth in beautiful green plumes. They were hardly noticeable among the sassafras bushes and blackberry vines. Yes, this had all been farmland not long ago.

Before them lay a clearing free of stumps, the ground covered with a deep mat of pine needles. Their footsteps could scarcely be heard. In the center there were two log cabins that looked as though they had been constructed hastily. At one end of each were chimneys made of split sticks. This was dangerous, April knew, for on cold nights when a large fire was built, chimneys made of wood often caught fire.

“I know it doesn’t look like much,” the man said as they walked toward the cabin on their right, “but I understand they wanted to put these men back here where they’d be comfortable, away from the others, and they made the arrangements in a hurry, thinking there would be time later to build nicer quarters. But there never was. Time has to be spent caring for the wounded, so nothing else ever gets done. I heard this morning that they’re clearing out the storage cabin to move in more men.”

April nodded, her excitement building as she realized she would soon see Alton.

A gentle breeze was blowing, a slight odor of balsam in the air. But above this, April could smell a strange scent, and she intuitively understood that this was the smell of impending death.

She stopped walking. Looking straight ahead at the cabin, she whispered, “I’ll go the rest of the way myself.”

She felt a pang of terror as he drawled, “No. Can’t let you do that. They might not let you in. I’ll have to let them know it’s all right.”

“No, really, I want to go in alone,” she cried, too loudly, too nervously. His eyes turned to her curiously. She tried to make her voice calmer, silently commanded herself to get hold of herself. She gave him another, tight smile and touched his arm gently. “Please. I have to do this alone. I don’t want to be announced. If he’s already dead, then let me be the one to find him. Don’t make me have to hear it from someone else.”

A loud scream pierced the air. She trembled. The man patted her shoulder. “That’s another reason they put them back here, little lady, the screams. I heard a doctor say once it’s like they feel the fingers of death reaching out to take them away. They’re screaming in horror over dying. They’re not in pain, ’cause they dose them up with opium and whiskey and anything else they can think of to give them peace. Come along now.

“By the way,” he added suddenly. “My name is Clyde Thornsby. Like I said, we’ve got some important officers back here, and we just can’t risk Yankee spies slipping in here.”

“You told me that earlier. Now please. Let me go alone.”

“They won’t let you in unless they know you’re approved.” He was giving her that strange look again. “Come along.”

April sucked in her breath, teeth biting into her lower lip as she fought for self-control. Oh, how she longed to just break away from him and run those last few yards to the cabin and rush inside to find Alton. But she was too close to risk exposure now. There was nothing to do but allow Clyde Thornsby to lead her.

They stepped inside, and a woman wearing a high-necked muslin dress and floor length apron, came rushing over. Her hair was pulled back from her face, and April could see that it was dirty, greasy, had not been washed in quite a while. She looked haggard, but beneath the deep lines of fatigue was a quality of kindness. She had seen far too much suffering, but she still struggled to meet the demands of her conscience.

“Yes, may I help you?”

April was straining to see in the dim light. Cots lined the walls, side by side, mere inches between. Some of the men were so horribly deformed that nausea bubbled in her throat. One of these, she thought in terror, was Alton.

Behind her, Clyde Thornsby was reaching into his pocket to display a badge and explain the circumstances of finding April.

“Well, who is she here to see?” the woman asked in a tired voice. “We had no notice anyone was coming.”

Her words were drowned out by an agonizing moan that echoed through the cabin, awaking men who had managed to fall asleep. Soon screams and moans rang out and the woman was raising her voice above the din, explaining that this was why visitors were discouraged. It would take her quite a while to calm the men down again.

April moved away, ignoring Clyde and the nurse. She took slow, faltering steps, pausing at the foot of each cot to stare at the man lying on it. Behind her, she heard Clyde say, “Leave her be. She’s all right. It’s her brother. She may not have much time.”

“She may not have any,” the nurse responded crisply. “I’ve had three die this morning. They’re back there covered up with sheets waiting to be moved to the Dead House. He could be one of them. What’s his name?”

“Let me see. Now what did she say it was—”

April froze. Her fist flew to her mouth to attempt to stifle the rising shriek. Before her lay Alton, staring upward. His face was intact. He was not moving. Beneath the sheet, she could see lumps of what? Bandages? The stumps of limbs? Dear God, just how badly had he been torn apart?

She forced her trembling legs to move, taking shuffling steps to the edge of the cot. “Alton…” she whispered in a voice too low even for her own ears. “Alton. Alton, please hear me.”

“Alton Moseley?” the nurse cried sharply from behind her. “She’s here to see Lieutenant Moseley? That must be the Jennings woman. I was told to be on the lookout for her. She’s not his sister!”

Clyde Thornsby moved quickly. He ran toward April, calling for her to stop. But she ignored him as she knelt beside Alton’s cot and cried, “Please, please hear me, Alton. It’s me, April.”

He turned his head ever so slightly, trying to focus his eyes. His breathing was shallow, labored, and grating sounds came from his chest. His eyes were dull and unseeing.

“It’s April. I’ve come to see you, to tell you—”

He opened his mouth, mustering every ounce of strength left in his ravaged body. The searing scream that came from his lips seemed torn from his very soul.

“Get thee behind me, Satan! Get thee behind me! Thou shalt not have my soul!”

“Alton.” She reached to touch him, but he shrank away, sobbing wildly, and she gasped in horror as he used the stumps of what had once been his arms to shove the sheet away from his emaciated body, struggling desperately to retreat from her.

“Satan! Satan! Satan!” he screamed over and over, tears flowing from his wildly rolling eyes. “Help me, God. Help me, Jesus. Satan’s here in the form of an angel!”

April bowed her head and sobbed, just as the hand of Clyde Thornsby clamped down painfully on her shoulder.

And she prayed as she had never prayed before.

Chapter Twenty-Three

April’s arms were being twisted painfully behind her back as she struggled against the strength of Clyde Thornsby. She watched in horror as Alton writhed in terror on his cot, moving only stubs where arms and legs had once been. Saliva oozed from the corners of his mouth as a nurse attempted to hold his heaving torso. “God! God! Take this she-devil away,” he screamed in agony. “Please, please, don’t do this to me.”

“You little Yankee bitch!” Clyde yelled, giving her a vicious shake. He yanked her around from the cot so that she was no longer facing Alton. “Is this what you came here to do? Do Yankees stoop so low as to torture a man who’s lost his arms and legs?”

She whipped her head from side to side, her long hair streaming across her face, covering her eyes. “No, no, no! We were going to be married. You must let me talk to him.”

“You’ve done all you’re gonna do to that poor boy. Now you’re coming with me, and we’re going to find out just who put you up to this.”

She brought her foot up high, then slammed it crashing backward into his shin. With a scream of pain, he loosened just enough so that she could wrest quickly away. Running back to Alton’s cot, she gripped the edge and leaned forward, her body convulsing in sobs as she pleaded, “You have to know me, Alton! April! It’s April! Remember? You loved me once. We were going to be married, but it was Vanessa who stopped us, Alton.”

Clyde grabbed her once again, just as a guard, alerted by all the screams, came charging into the cabin. “Help me,” Clyde yelled. “Grab her feet. Get her out of here. She’s trying to kill this boy.”

“I’m not! I’m not. Oh, please God,” she screamed. “Make them listen to me, please.”

The guard lifted her feet from the floor while Clyde gripped her beneath her shoulders. They carried her to the door, while Alton sobbed, “The Devil! Torturing me by pretending to be April. Oh, God, let me die. Don’t make me suffer this way. Not fair…not fair…not after all I’ve been through. Oh, God, hear me, kill me…”

His wails echoed through the building, shutting out the moans from the other patients.

Once outside, the soldier dropped April’s feet, but Clyde held onto her. “Get me some rope,” he said hoarsely. “A gag. We’re taking her to headquarters. She’s a spy.”

“I’m not a spy or a Yankee!” she shrieked, trying to kick him once again.

He released her and spun her around, his hand cracking across her face once, twice, three times. She felt a ringing in her ears and swayed dizzily, spots dancing before her eyes as the pain settled into every bone in her face.

“Now I’m not listenin’ to your lies. I don’t want to hurt you, but by damn, I will. Now you just calm down. You’ve done your dirty work.”

“I’m not a Yankee!”

He hit her again, this time sending her sprawling on the ground. The soldier came running with a scarf and a piece of rope. “Hey,” he protested. “She’s a woman—”

“Stay out of this.” Clyde yanked the rope away from him and bent down to jerk April’s wrists behind her back. He looped the twine tightly, then stuffed the scarf in her mouth roughly before straightening up. April’s head was bobbing about limply as she struggled for consciousness over the stunning pain exploding inside her head.

“Now let’s get her to headquarters. You got a horse nearby? I want to get there in a hurry.”

The soldier nodded and disappeared around the building, at the same moment one of the nurses came outside to see what was going on.

“Is he all right?” Clyde asked quickly. “Is he still havin’ them fits?”

She gave April a hating glare as she answered, “No, thank God. He fainted.” To April, she said coldly, “You should be ashamed. What kind of witch are you that you could torture the poor man that way? How could you?”