The Prodigy Slave, Book Three: The Ultimate Grand Finale (Revised Edition 2020)

by Londyn Skye

  Once James helped the medics stabilize Austin, he felt an unrelenting need to return to his father’s home for unfinished business. He made it back just before dawn with Harrison, Wilson, and three other Freedom Riders escorting him. They kept a lookout on the perimeter to watch for any impending trouble. As they stood guard, James walked over and looked down at Jacob’s lifeless body. He was not the brother whose brain he wished to put a bullet through. He knew Jacob was intellectually subpar, with an IQ that barely exceeded his pants size. He was an impressionable follower, only able to mimic others to navigate his way through life. He had, unfortunately, chosen J.R. and Jesse as his life guides. He loyally followed behind them like a lost lonely puppy, hoping for a proud pat on the head from time to time. James felt Jacob lacked the intelligence to understand how horribly misguided he was. For that fact, James actually had a bit of sympathy for the man, and even a lingering ounce of love. Wanting to show him a bit of decency, he dug his brother a shallow grave, buried him, made a cross out of sticks, and said a prayer for him before he walked away.

  The same could not be said for Jesse, though. James had not an ounce of respect, love, or sympathy for a man who had taken pleasure in ensuring the misery of others throughout every second of his life. Without a single prayer whispered, James laid a torch between his lifeless father’s legs and watched his body go up in flames, along with his torturous whipping tree. Much like Jesse at his Ghost Rider rallies, James stood there staring at his victim’s dead body with nary a tear in his eyes. As he watched his skin bubble and melt, he felt some semblance of peace, knowing that his father’s soul was now suffering the very same fiery fate in the eternal pits of hell. The only thing that would have been more satisfying for James, at this moment, was if there was still breath in his father’s lungs as he slowly roasted. To see him flailing and wailing, like the countless slaves he had tortured, seemed a fitting way for his father to go. His brother had robbed him of that. He now just had to be content with the fact that a rabid vicious animal had finally been put down, like a wise man had once advised him to do, as a service to society.

  James tossed Jesse’s signature whip into the flames and watched it burn to a crisp too. “I’m sure you and the devil will get along just fine,” he said. Treating his father with the same kindness that he had shown to all his slaves upon their deaths, he callously walked away, leaving his remains to be feasted on by wild animals.

  James picked up the kerosene canister on his way toward his childhood home. He trotted up the porch steps and set the canister just outside the door, near the planter that he and Lily had once hidden crickets in to scare Mary Jo. He looked out into the field and let out a faint laugh as the memory returned of little Mary Jo face-planting in the mud, as she fled from the crickets. James then walked into the parlor and a vision of Lily sitting at the piano materialized in his mind. He walked into the kitchen and recalled all the times that he and Lily had laughed as they scrubbed the floor in there together. He stepped into the guest bedroom, recalling the way he and Lily had made love there after reconciling. The beautiful memory made his eyes flutter close as a surge of warmth ignited his insides. He then stepped into the living room and gazed at the special spot on the sofa, where he used to sit and comfort his crying mother as a toddler. Just above that spot was a portrait of her.

  As James gazed at her image, he heard Harrison and Wilson enter the house to check on him. “Help me,” James said to them, still staring at his mother. Minutes later, they were all carrying his mother’s piano into Lily’s old room in the slave quarters. James then went back into the house one last time and retrieved the portrait of his mother off the wall. His tears pelted the glass of the frame as he gazed at her. He wiped the tear away, walked out to the slave quarters, placed the portrait inside of the piano bench, and covered it all with Lily’s old blanket. He then walked back out to the front of the main house and gazed up at the old rickety dwelling one last time. His childhood home indeed held many very special memories … but Jesse Adams had managed to taint them all. He left a dark cloud that constantly rained misery and sorrow, flooding everyone with tears. The cloud drifting over that house never cleared, no matter how much laughter and love tried to shine through it. For that reason, James let go of the torch in his hand and dropped it in the trail of kerosene that he had poured all throughout the house.

  With a massive inferno blazing behind him, James Adams walked off his father’s plantation for the very last time. He stopped at the entrance and planted an American flag, branded with the Freedom Riders emblem. But this time, it symbolized an ironclad guarantee that Lily would never again have to set foot in that house of horrors or be taken prisoner by the man who made it the nightmare that it was.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  James was standing at the end of Austin and Emerson’s cots in the medical tent. Emerson was among the few that were shot on Joseph’s plantation during the brief battle there. James and his medical team were forced to amputate Austin’s arm that same night. After recovering for nearly a month, James had just declared both men well enough to go home. Wilson was leaving too. During a recent mission to retrieve supplies and ammunition, their troop was attacked, and he sustained a knife injury to the face that nearly cost him his right eye. James felt it was wise for all three men to travel back home together. Emerson agreed and got up to go and gather his belongings along with Wilson.

  “So much for eva’ playin’ percussion again,” Austin joked while looking at what was left of his bandaged arm.

  “I’m really sorry we couldn’t save it. I promise, we tried like hell,” James replied, lingering guilt still in his tone.

  “I know and for that I truly thank you,” Austin said, still looking at his arm. “I guess I can look on the bright side. It gives me a legitimate excuse to finally go home and see my little girl again. At least I still have one good arm to hug ’er with.” He quickly looked up at James. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to…”

  James put a reassuring hand on Austin’s shoulder. “It’s alright. I love hearin’ you talk about little Georgia Lily. I get to live vicariously through you,” he said sincerely.

  Austin nodded. “Danny … that’s what Georgia used to call me before I left home. She had it confused with the word daddy. It was the most adorable damn thing eva’,” Austin said, smiling at the memory. “Hard to believe she’s almost five now. Afta’ all these years, I just hope she still rememba’s that I’m her danny.”

  “I don’t think anyone could eva’ forget you, Austin. I know I certainly won’t.”

  Austin nodded his appreciation for the kind words and got up off the cot to get his backpack.

  James helped him put it on when he struggled to put the straps in place. “Is that everything?” he then asked.

  “I think so,” Austin replied, looking around. “This may sound insane, but in a way, I might actually miss bein’ here.”

  “I don’t think it’s insane at all. As gruesome as it’s been, these battlefields have been your home for four years now.”

  “It’s not the battlefields I’ll miss. The Freedom Rida’s are like my family now.”

  “Afta’ everything we’ve been through, I think we’re all bonded for life now, whetha’ we wanna be or not,” James replied. He exhaled and looked Austin in the eyes. “But truth be told, you’ve felt like family to me long before we eva’ formed the Freedom Rida’s … I mean that sincerely.”

  Austin looked James in the eyes as well. “The feelin’s been mutual … for just as long.”

  Both men stood there silently for a moment, neither of them ready to say goodbye, especially James. He was still astounded by Austin’s evolution from arrogant young man, to a man that was now worth honoring. A man he once loathed for hurting Lily was now one he greatly respected for trying to free her. The fact that their friendship had evolved to that degree was hitting James at full force, making a simple goodbye seem impossible.

  “Will you write to me and let me know
when you find Lily?” Austin asked.

  “Absolutely.”

  “You make sure you bring your ass home to her in one piece. I’m sure she’d much prefer you that way,” Austin teased.

  James laughed. “Tell that to our enemies!”

  When their light laughter subsided, Austin looked around the tent one last time and exhaled. “Well, I guess I best get goin’. Emerson’s waitin’ on me.” He then extended his only remaining hand to James.

  “You both be careful on the journey home,” James replied, shaking his hand. “I’ll be prayin’ for ya’ both.”

  “I appreciate that. I’ll be prayin’ just as hard for all of you too.” Austin adjusted his backpack, put on his hat, and made his first steps toward home. He suddenly paused, though, and turned back around. He nervously looked down at the ground and then up at James. “When you find Lily … will you please tell ‘er that I tried my best to help find ’er and officially set ’er free?” He lowered his head, looked at his arm, and began to tear up. “I tried,” he whispered.

  “You can damn well believe I already had every intention.”

  Austin nodded and quickly turned around to depart before his tears could fall.

  “Austin!” James called out before he exited the tent.

  He stopped and turned around again.

  Despite Austin being a lower ranking soldier, James stood at attention, slowly raised his hand to his head and saluted him.

  Despite the overwhelming emotion of the moment, Austin straightened up, stood at attention, and absorbed the honoring moment like a true patriotic soldier. He then nodded his head, turned, and began the long journey back home to his wife, and the little girl he had named in Lily’s honor.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  William stood inside the Manhattan museum’s music themed room, staring up at the portrait of Lily in Piers LeRoux’s painting of the Dream Symphony. He was about to sit down to start his usual silent prayers for all his loved ones, until he suddenly heard a familiar voice behind him.

  “Isabel told us we’d find you here, perusing the halls of our mother’s favorite museum.”

  William turned around and was instantly stunned into tears. “Emerson! Wilson!” Tears spilled from his eyes as he gazed at his twins. “Please tell me my old mind isn’t playing tricks on me,” he whispered, his bottom lip quivering.

  “We’re here father,” Wilson said as he embraced him.

  William’s tears seeped onto Wilson’s decorated military jacket as he embraced his beloved son tightly. He only released him to embrace the other. The tears on Emerson’s jacket proved how grateful he was to be holding him as well. Emerson reciprocated the hug as best he could with the sling on his arm.

  William pulled back, wiped his eyes, and gazed at his sons with pride again. The joy of having them both home alive had made him oblivious to their injuries at first. “Will you both be alright?” William asked, after noting the dressing on their wounds.

  “No worries. Bullet broke a bone in my shoulder and lodged in the muscle, but James removed it and stitched me up well. He said I’d regain full use in a few more weeks.”

  “James stitched me up too. I won’t know how badly my vision has been affected until I’m healed enough to remove the stitches and the gauze in a few weeks. But James was optimistic.”

  “You both still have breath in your lungs and capable minds. That’s all that should matter.”

  “Indeed,” Emerson replied, exhaling to ward off tears. “More importantly, how are you fatha’?”

  William refused to blink his tear-filled eyes as he gazed at his sons. “Two pieces of my heart have just returned home from the bloody fields of battle. Now, all I need is for James, Elijah, Harrison, and Austin to return in one piece. Only then will my heart feel whole again.”

  “Well, you can cross one ‘a those off your list.”

  “Austin!” William erupted, after turning to find him standing near the entryway next to Preston Mills. Austin’s daughter, his wife, and Isabel were there as well, their eyes filled with tears after watching a loving father reunite with his sons.

  Austin approached William. “I neva’ really had much of a capable mind.” He lifted his amputated arm. “Nor can I say that I’m in one piece anymore,” he joked. “But, I’m definitely here with breath still left in my lungs.”

  “And for that I’m truly grateful. It’s wonderful to have you back home as well,” William said, his tears fresh again as he embraced Austin like a son.

  “Certainly a homecoming deserving of a celebration,” Preston expressed as he approached. “I have just instructed my staff to put together a gala for all of you in the coming weeks. Please feel free to invite friends and family to celebrate your homecoming and your service to our country. Food, drinks, and entry will be free for all. Your dedication to mending our divided nation is sincerely appreciated, and the Manhattan Museum would like to show our gratitude for all your grand sacrifices. I’m sure many of the residents here in our town will as well.”

  “Your gesture is equally appreciated Mr. Mills,” Emerson replied. “Thank you very much.”

  “It’s an honor to do so,” Preston replied, shaking Emerson, Wilson, and Austin’s hands. “Unfortunately, I’ll be leaving town this evening, but it will be my first order of business to finalize all plans when I return to Manhattan in a few days.”

  “You’re a brave man to traipse outside of this town in the midst of a war,” William joked.

  “Brave? I think insane is the word you’re looking for,” Preston joked in return. “Unfortunately, I’m being forced to deliver several very expensive portraits to a family down in Texas. The wife is a very particular socialite and art connoisseur. She demands that I deliver them personally. She refuses to pay otherwise. Seems the delivery of her fanciful decor trumps the safety of a man perusing through a war-torn country.”

  “Sounds like you’re dealing with a truly selfless woman with very sensible priorities. Oh, how I envy you,” William joked, wrinkling his nose.

  “Well then, I’ll gladly trade you places, my friend,” Preston sarcastically replied.

  “I think I’ll pass,” William laughed. “But I bid you safe travels my good friend.”

  “Yes, safe travels, Mr. Mills. And thank you again for the homecoming celebration,” Wilson said.

  “Yes, thank you,” Austin added.

  “It’s my pleasure gentlemen. Now, if you’ll excuse me. I must set off on my journey to meet the world’s most selfless socialite,” Preston joked. He gave a slight nod before departing to the train station.

  When Preston was gone, Austin took a moment to look around the music themed exhibit. He stopped and looked up at the painting of the woman who had inspired him to become a soldier. “I’m appreciative of Mr. Mills wanting to celebrate our homecoming.” He briefly glanced over at his wife and little Georgia. “I’m ova’joyed to be back with my family, but…” He looked back at Lily’s portrait again. “But part ‘a me is devastated that I wasn’t able to see the war through ‘til the very end.”

  “Your sentiments definitely mirror mine,” Emerson added.

  Austin looked down at his missing arm. “Still hard to believe I spent years fightin’ on battlefields, only to end my stint as a soldier durin’ a routine rescue mission on a plantation field instead.”

  “I can imagine that such a thing is truly devastating. But we must accept that all things happen for a reason … reasons that are often beyond our earthly comprehension,” William replied.

  “Much like the fact that we rescued thousands of slaves … and not a single one of ’em was Lily.” Austin shook his head. “That’s indeed beyond my earthly comprehension.”

  Wilson walked over and stood beside them. “I know how you feel. Felt like we scoured every nook and cranny in the south. Seems impossible that we neva’ crossed paths with her. Makes me feel like her existence was just a figment of our imaginations.”

  “Those are words from a m
ind on the verge of defeat. Let us not lose hope,” William replied.

  “I haven’t,” Austin quickly replied. “I may not be a part of the Freedom Rida’s anymore, but that certainly won’t stop me from doin’ my part to find Lily.” He turned again and gazed up at the portrait of her sitting centerstage in the Dream Symphony. “The show ain’t ova’ yet.”

  “Not even close, my boy,” William replied. “Not even close.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  United States

  Government of Armies:

  Rules of War

  Section I Code II

  Commanders, whenever admissible, must inform the enemy of their intention to bombard a place, so that the noncombatants, especially the women and children, may be removed before the bombardment commences.

  Section I Code XI

  The laws of war do not condone cruelty, or the infliction of suffering for the sake of suffering, or for revenge. Unjust retaliation removes the belligerents farther from the mitigating rules of regular war and nearer to the barbaric wars of savages. Therefore, acts of cruelty for individual gain, or revenge, shall be severely punished, and especially so if committed by officers.

  January 30, 1865

  “Red puffy eyes … check. Distant and withdrawn … check. Refusing to smile … check. Accordin’ to that list, it’s clear that the old Adams heartbreaker has returned and crushed anotha’ heart.”