Paranormal After Dark

by Rebecca Hamilton

  Robert handed Lizzie down to Sarah and then clambered down the steps. Mr. Barry waited until Levi scampered down the stairs and then eased himself into the hole and shut the cellar door behind him.

  They were in complete darkness.

  Adelaide heard the sound of a match strike. A small flicker of light came to life across from her. Robert touched the match to a beeswax candle and then swept it around the dank, cramped room. It was much smaller than their cellar in the Ferry Lot had been and there was broken glass, pottery, and rusted, broken nails all over the floor. She was immediately thankful she’d brought a quilt with them this time.

  “There isn’t much kerosene left in this lamp.” Mr. Barry reported, his voice heavy with disappointment. “Unless you brought a whole box of candles, we’ll have to spend a lot of time in the dark.”

  Robert nodded. “Or hope this ends quickly.”

  * * *

  September 14th

  THE ROAR OF artillery thundered all around them, sounding like it came from each of the Heights around town. Even deep inside the pitch black cellar, the air seemed infused with the vibration from the blasts. They were nearly out of kerosene and completely out of candles. If the attack lasted much longer they would also be out of bread.

  It was nothing like the last artillery attack. It was louder. It came from everywhere. It was unending.

  * * *

  September 15th

  SILENCE.

  There’d been silence before, punctuated by one final artillery blast. But now it was over; it had to be over.

  Mr. Barry cracked the cellar door slightly, allowing a beam of blinding sunshine to filter into the chilly hole. He opened it further and stuck his head outside.

  The sunlight was unbearable. Adelaide squinted her eyes shut and covered her face with her hands. The only Godsend from the open door was the air that filled her lungs.

  Robert spoke up from the ground. “What do you see out there?”

  “I think it’s over.” Mr. Barry responded. “There’s MacGrogan. Let me see what he knows.”

  With Mr. Barry out of the cellar, Robert climbed over Adelaide and crawled up a few steps. He looked outside.

  “Well?”

  “Well what?” Robert scowled. “There’s nobody out here.”

  “Where did all the soldiers go?” Sarah asked softly.

  Robert shrugged. “They must all be up in Bolivar. Wait, here comes Joseph again. Maybe he has news.”

  Mr. Barry squatted down. “You won’t believe this. All the blue bellies have been captured.”

  Sarah gasped out loud and grabbed her sister’s arm. Adelaide knew her thoughts had turned to Henry Baden; she prayed he hadn’t been in the middle of the firefight.

  Robert ignored their commotion. “You can’t be serious. How can that be?”

  “MacGrogan says they all surrendered, all thirteen thousand of them.” Mr. Barry nodded towards Bolivar Heights. “Jackson’s Rebs had ‘em surrounded.”

  Robert brushed his hair back and pulled his cap down low. “So now we’ll be under Confederate garrison. There’s always something, isn’t there?”

  Adelaide crawled out of the cellar and stretched her cramped legs. It felt so good to stand up, to stretch her arms out over her head. The air was heavy with the smell of sulfur, somewhat like the smell of rotten eggs. What there was of a breeze carried smoke down from the heights. It seemed to settle around her face and sink into the fibers of her clothes. But it was worth it to be out of the cold cellar.

  The entire town was empty. Streets that just days ago had been full of soldiers were now deserted, except for a few straggling ghosts making their way down from Bolivar—the dead from the battle. Adelaide wondered how the living soldiers fared, wondered about Henry Baden up on the heights in Bolivar. Was he was alive or dead? Would they ever actually know? She followed close behind Robert, glancing down the street to the burned out ruins of the Armory and the Ferry Lot. From the distance, with the smoke and tension thick in the air, it seemed like another world; like staring through a stereopticon viewer. The image wasn’t real, but seemed to be leaping off the flat card. That’s where the specters were headed: something in the Armory complex was drawing them in, the vortex the Shadow Man mentioned.

  “What do you think will happen to all the Yankees?” Levi asked, plucking an apple from the counter display. Their store was little worse for wear, other than crumbled plaster on the floorboards.

  Robert shrugged his shoulders and took the apple back. “Maybe they’ll go to a prison camp? More’s the worse for us, though, since those blue bellies were so loose with greenbacks. Rebs never have money, just that worthless Rebel script.”

  Sarah sat Lizzie on the counter and brushed dirt off her dress. “Levi, will you take her upstairs and tell her a story? I want to heat up some water for a bath. We all could use one.”

  “Do I have to?”

  “You can either deal with her or you can get the bath water ready.”

  “I’ll take her.” Levi scooped Lizzie off the counter and swung her upside down before flipping her across his shoulders. “Come on Miss Biz, let’s go upstairs and I’ll tell you a story.”

  “I want to stay here.”

  Adelaide didn’t hear Levi’s response, but was certain it was a comment less than flattering to Sarah. Pushing past Robert, she slid behind the counter and looked over the shelves of bread. “It doesn’t look like anything was bothered while we were gone.”

  “Anyone left in town stayed inside. Robert peered out the door at the vegetable bins. “Those blue bellies were in such a hurry to get at the Rebs, they didn’t have time to be interested in our wares.”

  Sarah, having put a kettle of water on the stove to boil, bunched her apron in her hands and leaned against the door frame. “Robert, do you think many were killed?”

  He looked irritated by her question. “Why do you ask me these things? I don’t know. I have no way of knowing. I’m sure we’ll hear later on; don’t worry about it now.”

  “But—”

  “Sarah.”

  She huffed. “Fine.”

  Levi strolled back into the room, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. “She’s asleep. Are you going to make me sit up there and watch her?”

  “No.” Robert crossed his arms. “Go and count the vegetables outside. I want to make sure they really are all there.”

  Levi groaned and stared up at the ceiling. “I should have just stayed upstairs.”

  Adelaide stifled a giggle.

  Robert shook his head as Levi let the door swing shut with a slam. “Honestly, that boy is growing up too fast. Nearly twelve. Where’s time gone?”

  Sarah’s voice was soft. “To think, Luke would be nearly seventeen by now.”

  “He’s still nearly seventeen,” Adelaide hesitated, “wherever he is.”

  The front door creaked open and a gaunt man with a thick gray beard slunk in to the store. His worn gray uniform was patched in several places and covered with dirt and dried blood. His feet were bare.

  Adelaide exchanged a glance with Sarah.

  The soldier eyed the wares on display with unconcealed interest until his steely eyes landed on the loaves of bread behind the counter.

  Robert positioned himself in front of the shelves and crossed his arms. “Can I help you, sir?”

  The Reb stared hungrily at the bread.

  “A wise decision, sir.” Robert remained firmly planted. “We’ve had to raise our cost to twenty cents a loaf, but that’s still the lowest price you’ll find.”

  The man turned towards Adelaide, his haunted gaze freezing the blood in her veins. She felt her knees buckle and she grasped the counter uneasily; he looked at her like he wanted to ravage her. His body reeked, the stench seeming to hover around him like a thick cloud. To her horror, his hand reached towards their display of apples.

  Heaven bestowed upon her at that moment the strength to step to the side and block him. “I’m afraid you’ll have to
pay first, sir.”

  “My captain is right up the street.” His eyes were transfixed on the plump red apples and he moved to her other side. She blocked him again. “He has plenty of money. He’ll pay.”

  “Fine.” Robert’s voice grated like metal on metal. “We’ll all wait for your captain.”

  The man edged closer to Adelaide. “But he’s right up the street.”

  “You’ll pay first.”

  Adelaide prayed the man would not push her aside. It would have been so simple for him to shove her away; she felt as if she didn’t hold on to the counter, she’d be pushed over by the slightest touch. Dead souls she could handle: it was the living who scared her.

  Providence once again prevailed. The man eyed her a final time and then slunk out the front door. It slammed shut behind him; she jumped at the sound.

  Robert sighed in relief and put his hand on her arm. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded.

  Levi burst through the front door, his face having paled considerably. “They’ve arrested Mr. Ebersole! Dragged him right out of his house!”

  Even though the door was closed, Adelaide could hear the sounds of a growing commotion and shouts echoing down the street. Robert seemed very calm, strolling to the front of the store like he was off on a business call. He pulled the door open and stepped out on the stoop, looking down Shenandoah Street towards the Charlestown Pike.

  Sarah took a hesitant step from behind the counter. “Robert? What’s going on?”

  Adelaide didn’t feel as timid as her sister looked. Hovering in the doorway next to Levi, she stood on her tip-toes and strained to see over Robert’s shoulder and down the street.

  Her breath caught in her throat. A line of Confederate soldiers were crossing Bridge Street, rapidly marching in their direction. The man who so desperately wanted their bread and apples was yelling to his comrades and pointing at their door. “There’s food in there. Shoes too. And clean shirts!”

  “You boys stay in ranks.” A man in front, presumably an officer, yelled at the men. “I’ll not tell you again!”

  “Bread?” A voice cried sharply. “I haven’t tasted fresh bread in ‘bout five months.”

  The line of soldiers began to fall apart as more men caught interest in the shop. A fair-haired man wearing a golden colored wheelman’s hat jumped out of ranks and into the street. He quickened his pace as he saw them crowded in the doorway.

  “Levi,” Robert still looked and sounded remarkably calm, “I want you to go upstairs and get Poppa’s old flintlock out of the chest. Lock yourself and Lizzie in the bedroom and don’t open the door for anyone.”

  Levi stared at Robert. “But—”

  “Now Levi.” Robert pushed them back from the door and slammed it shut, rattling the glass panes in the wood. He clicked the lock in place then braced his body against a flour barrel. Slowly, the full barrel slid across the floor and up against the right side of the double door. He heaved another barrel against the left door, then stepped back a few paces to survey his barricade.

  Adelaide stared out the front window—her feet felt like they were rooted to the ground—as the small group of soldiers grew larger. “Robert…”

  He whirled around, looking at her and Sarah as if he was just now noticing their presence. “Get behind the counter.” He commanded, thrusting his index finger in a downward motion. “Stay down and close to each other.”

  Her heart pounded loudly in her ears as they hurried around the counter. Sarah sank to her knees next to her, trembling, and held her apron over her face. Heavy wooden boards weren’t going to protect them from Confederate steel. Adelaide pulled her close and squeezed her, then peered around the counter.

  The mob was in an uproar now and several men began pushing against the door. The flimsy lock Robert had installed was no match for their combined force and the barrels of flour certainly could not hold either. The barrels smashed to the ground, spilling an avalanche of powder across the floor.

  Sarah screamed. Adelaide was to her feet in an instant. Her sister’s shriek ended in a choked gulp as she scrambled after her, grabbing and clawing at her arms. “What are you doing? Get down.”

  There was a rush; a tumble. Men pushed each other to get through the narrow doorway, fighting to get inside.

  “Get out of my store!” Robert roared. Adelaide had never before heard rage like that in his voice. “Are you gentlemen or animals?”

  The fair-haired man shoved her brother aside and headed straight for her. “Give me all of your bread right now. I want all of that bread on the counter.”

  “No!” Adelaide screamed. Her body began to tremble; she prayed he didn’t notice.

  “Miss, I want that bread.”

  “You’ll have to pay, just like everyone else.”

  A man with long brown hair darted towards the edge of counter, trying frantically to reach the bread behind her. Robert was across the room in an instant and wrestled the soldier back. “You’ll not go back there.”

  Greedy hands snatched at the apple display, knocking it to the floor with muffled thumps. Two men pushed and shoved each other, immediately breaking into a fight over an already bruised and somewhat crushed apple.

  The fair-haired man reached across the counter and grabbed Sarah’s arm. He hoisted his musket up with one hand and motioned at the shelving unit. “Give me the bread. Don’t give me a reason to shoot you, Miss, I’ll do it. I will.”

  Sarah jerked away and stumbled back against the shelves. Her hands were trembling, but she managed to pick up two loaves and place them on the counter in front of the soldier. He grabbed one loaf, but Adelaide snatched the other back. She pushed it into Sarah’s hands and screamed in her face, “Don’t you dare give him more bread. Are you daft?”

  Before her sister could respond, Robert’s figure caught Adelaide’s attention. He pushed his way to the door and ripped the license from the wall. “I am allowed to run this store! I have a license. You must pay for these goods.”

  A Reb snatched the paper from his hands. His eyes scanned it quickly and, for a moment, Adelaide thought it would all stop.

  It didn’t.

  He burst out laughing. “This is a Yankee license. Do you honestly believe that I’ll honor this?”

  He ripped the license in two and dropped the pieces into the sea of flour on the floor. Taking a step forward, he stared at Robert, a slight smile playing on his lips, and growled, “I think we need to discuss this matter elsewhere.”

  Out of nowhere, two men grabbed Robert’s arms and dragged him out the front doors. He struggled and pulled against them, but even his strength was no match for the two combined strengths of the Rebel soldiers.

  “Robert!” Adelaide screamed. Terror spread across her chest. They couldn’t take Robert, not her brother. She pushed her way from behind the counter, past the men carrying shoes and shirts; men with hats filled with eggs and pockets filled with apples. She grabbed the first weapon she saw: a broom for scouring pots.

  She swung at the man on her right. “Get out! Get out of our store!”

  Each hit was more satisfying than the last. Adelaide swung again and again, and in this fashion was able to make her way out of the store—hitting and pushing and screaming. As soon as her feet hit Shenandoah Street, she screamed for Robert again. The Rebs were dragging him down the street, down towards the old Armory complex. She had no doubt in one of those buildings he would meet up with Mr. Ebersole.

  “No, Adelaide.” Robert yelled over his shoulder. “You stay there.”

  The Rebs swarmed around her, part falling back into their marching line with loaves of bread skewered on their bayonets. A soldier made a grab for the squash in the wooden bin. In retaliation, Adelaide hit him with as much force as she could muster. “Leave it be.”

  “I’ll do as I please!” He tried to yank the broom from her hands, pulling and shoving her around, but she held on tightly. “You Yankee whore.”

  Adelaide kicked at his knees furiou
sly, clawing, shoving; doing whatever she could to stop him. Two firm hands grabbed her waist and wretched her away, tearing the rough handle out of her grasp. It dropped to the ground. She screamed, struggling against the man’s powerful grip. Her hands were burning, maybe bleeding. “Let me go, you fucking bastard.”

  “Either he takes the squash,” the Reb hissed in her ear, “or we take you. It’s been painfully lonely in the field these last few years and your body—”

  “You let her go!” Sarah threw herself from the doorway and straight into the Reb’s side. Adelaide stumbled back a few steps and then lurched forward; snagging the broom off the ground.

  It was too late. Almost all of the squash was gone.

  The man in the wheelman’s hat pushed her towards the door. “Get back in your store.”

  “No.” Tears were streaming down her cheeks now; her scream sounded pitiful to her own ears. “You get off our property.”

  “Get back in your store.” He spit chewed apple in her face as he yelled. “Get back in now!”

  “You’ll have to make me.”

  Adelaide knew the threat was a mistake as soon as it left her lips. He yanked the broom from her hands and threw it aside. With his apple firmly clamped in his teeth, he lifted her off the ground and shoved her inside the building. She stumbled backwards, immediately tripping over the upturned flour barrels and slamming to the ground in a heap of flour covered skirts.

  He stopped for a moment, a brief hint of concern flashing through his eyes.

  “Get out of here.” Adelaide didn’t want his help, not in the least. He felt guilt for pushing her to the ground, but not for ransacking their store or arresting Robert. His attitude was so offensive to her she couldn’t even look at him. “Just get out of here.”

  He stared at her, obviously torn over the proper course of action to take. Finally, and much to Adelaide’s immediate relief, he turned on his heel and walked away from the store.

  Sarah was immediately at her side, the broom in hand, and fell to her knees. “Did he hurt you?”