Wolf raced through the trees with no signs of slowing down. The sound of his hooves pushing through the softened clay thudded so deeply through my bones, my teeth rattled. Only the sound of the brash wind against my ears stopped me from conjuring Jackson in mind- from invading my thoughts and taking a hold of me again. His eyes, almost black, gazing into the window, into me- through me. Was it even him?
No. Of course it was. I could never mistake his eyes. It was him. And he had gone-
I stopped myself. I needed to stay sane. George was quiet behind me, his weight pressing heavy into my back.
"Can you see them? Have we gotten far enough?" I asked him. George said nothing. I spared a second to look behind me, watching his limp hand bounce against Wolf's side. "George?" I asked again. We were going too fast for me to try and rouse him. I needed to find a place to rest quickly and it seemed as though the soldiers had stopped pursuing us for quite some time now.
Wolf carried us through the trees and just up ahead, perhaps another mile, was a clearing. "Just a bit longer George." I told him reassuringly. My heart was beating with such fury It felt as though my heart would rip through my chest.
The bullets still buzzed in my ear since the first shot had been taken. There were pieces of blue sky that I could barely make out through the smoke of gun fire. The battlefield was quiet now, Just a few grumbles from horses, or painful moaning from men, slipping from consciousness. I couldn't move. My throat felt solid, barely managing a gulp, though somehow air continued to enter my lungs. I could feel the body's of the men I had fought along side with, piled over me. All it took was one cannon line to knock down our defense. I could feel the cool breeze on my face and I couldn't help but smile, feeling the soft, wet grass between my fingertips as my body seeped into the ground itself.
I found myself thinking of those eyes, the last thing I saw before the battlefield. Although I wasn't close enough they looked exactly like-
No.
How could it be her? What a miracle it would have to be. For all I know she is laughing joyously in the back of the wagon, enjoying her journey with George. George- the thorn so deeply plunged into my side. As I lay here in the cold, cold Earth, I realized I had never fought for her. Like a fool, I assumed there were no words I could say that would bring her back to me, to keep her within my grasp, anymore. That I had lost a piece of her- the piece that had loved me once, a thousand years ago it seemed. Time appeared to stop here in the bloodied field.
But what if it was her? What would I say to her here as I lay dying? That I love you? That I have always loved you, and will never stop loving you? That I pray that there be a God that would allow me an eternity with you? Though I believe these words as plainly as I believe in day and night they were simply nice words. Pleasantries.
Hm. Here . . . Something better- You are my purpose. My sole reason for living, the sigh of relief in the morning that my eyes have opened, embracing a new day once more for you. For if you were naught, what breed of man would I become? Certainly no man. No, I'd be nothing, laying here in the grass, surrounded by men struck by hundreds of Minié balls praying for our cold fate to arrive swift and true. For the inevitable rain to pour over us and wash away whatever remained.
And to think I had come here to save you and our family. Perhaps I saved you from myself.
I continued to watch the smoke rise and fade into the ever deepening blue of mid morning as I found solace in the mere thought of Clementine. Some voices had returned to my ears from a distance away. Their distinct Northern accent was not a harbinger of triumph as they crept ever closer. The weight of my men began to lighten from on top of me as their bodies were dragged to a pile, presumed departed. It took everything I had to keep from gulping the air that clung so tangibly above.
The soldiers were bound to find me. I couldn't fake death now, not when I've faced it and so plainly decided wanted nothing to do with it. So what if they captured me? Any fate would suffice but this. I could feel their boots kicking me tentatively as If I would spring back to life at any moment. Then one man drove the heel of his boot into my side, the pain so severe it was impossible not to cry out. I keeled over, clutching at my warm, soaked coat that had turned nearly black with blood and debris.
"The lucky bastard! Missed the Devil by a hair! Looks like some paleface 'gray back' who finally got his red badge of courage." The Union soldier snickered as they began to lift me up, one at my forearms, the other at my ankles, hoisting and then throwing me onto a makeshift gurney.
"It's only a scratch. Buzzed clean through you! The lucky bastard." The other agreed. My eyes fluttered open as I tried to make out where they were taking me. It wasn't as if I could make a run for it but it was best to stay vigilante in situations such as this. I was now a prisoner of the Union. It was too early to say what they might do to me. Some make-shift prison camp was my best guess. I'd already heard the grim tales of Northern Prison camps. They were little more than diseased slums, pitting man against man in the desperate fight for survival. It was nearly impossible to escape. In other words, it was a death sentence. I tried to open my mouth to speak but nothing would come out. There was only the warm pain that was beginning to dull and spread over me; I let myself slip away into the velvety blackness beneath my eyes.
I awoke to a campfire spitting out its embers onto my face, singeing my cheeks that were partially frozen from the night air. At first all I could see was red. Licking flames reaching toward the dark sky. I could vaguely hear the sound of metal clanging. Perhaps pots and pans? It was all so faint, my ears still rattled by the canon fire. This was the Union's base camp I presumed. I tried to move, only to discover my hands and feet were tied, making it practically impossible to sit upright. My cheek dragged along the mud as I gazed upon the scene from a sideways glance, the hustle and bustle of the camp like any other.
I could suddenly feel the pain in my side. If what my captors had said was true, I had been shot clean through. I wasn't dead.
I wasn't dead.
It took everything I had to hoist myself forward, pulling my weight towards my shoulders in order to fling myself upright, my knees buckling below me as i steadied myself on the spare fire wood, my eyes shifting and blurring from the rush of blood and pain. Now the embers danced up into the sky, disappearing into black.
There was a sharp breath directly across from me and I gazed toward the sound. There was a figure obscured by the firelight, appearing to me as a shadow. I hadn't realized how many other prisoners there were. Their moans of agony were so quiet it blended in with chirping of the crickets as we lay in this fenced off mudpit.
"Jack?" The voice asked, hushed and trembling. I scoured over the huddled men. I didn't reply- perhaps the question was meant for someone else. "Jackson! You're alive! You're alive, thank God! Thank God, I was so scared!" Their voice began to shake uncontrollably. It was no man. " I thought I would never s-see you again! Oh God! What've I done?!" It was a woman, choking on her tears. Only it was Clementine's voice.
Perhaps I was dead. Clementine speaking to me here of all places? Oh, she knew not how she tortured me- her very existence plagued my mind.
"Jackson. I'm- I'm so sorry."
"For what?" I asked, not caring one bit that I wasn't truly speaking with her.
"This! Everything! There is so much that I want to tell you."
By now the pain had become so severe I couldn't think straight. The night shifted out of focus, my eyes growing heavy with exhaustion. "No! Jackson! Please! Keep your eyes open, please, baby!" The voice cried out to me. There was a scuffle, a swift kick of the leaves, the fire swayed, and as my body began to feel weak and weightless a warm body caught me before I fell. Their cool fingertips traced my face, brushing over my eyes, helping me stay conscious. I peered above me, red light etched across the woman's face, but I still couldn't make out her features.
"Who . . . are you?" I managed.
"Who- who am I?" She repeated, sadly. She pulled me closer into her chest, rocking back and forth, back and forth. Tears dripping from her eyes fell onto my cheeks , soothing my skin from the unnerving pain. "I'm Clementine Sawyer. Your wife. I'm your wife."
"Am I dying?"
"No, baby. You're not dying. Don't say foolish things like that. Don't you ever say that!" She cried.
"Le-lemme see you." My speech slurred as I used all the strength within me to peel open my eyes, to gaze upon her, to confirm that I had really gone insane . . .
A flash of light, and there she was. Inches from me, those brown eyes I had seen in the distance that morning. Brown eyes that could stir my soul, pulling me into her. They were swimming with tears as they overflowed and fell down her flushed cheeks. Her lips, parted ever so slightly, their fullness as beautiful and inviting as I had always remembered them to be. She was here. How could this be? I reached my hand towards her curls, strewn with leaves and dirt as I swept my fingers across her furrowed brows, hearing her shallow breath in my ears. I focused on Clementine. It all felt so real.
I felt like a child, being held by her, reducing me to the boy I used to be. The naive boy who believed there was only goodness in the world; and who could blame me? " I've only ever wanted to protect you Clementine. To never let anything harm you was my only purpose . . . and our children . . . our beautiful babies. I've just left them." There were no tears, only sadness rooted deep within me.
"We have to protect each other Jackson. There is no me without you, do you understand? There never was. We're together now. That's all that matters." I met her gaze again, searching her face for worry, anxiety, anything. There was only happiness, her small smile glowing in the dying light.
"It will be morning soon."
"Yes." She replied.
"I have many things to tell you then."
"As do I."
I nestled into her, meeting her parted lips with mine, keeping them there before tenderly departing and melting into her as I drifted back to sleep.