Stowaway in Time

to Cole, his gaze trained to his friend’s back, trying not to think about the froth churned waters of the river even as the rain fell without mercy, soaking through his coat and plastering his hair to his skull.
His breath hitched when the boat dipped as they stepped aboard. His stomach churned, but they had made it. Soldiers crowded the deck, pressed against the field guns they had managed to save, but more men continued to board.
The order came down to dump the heavier artillery in the river. There was no room for it on the transport and still no sign of additional boats coming to their rescue.
Cole and Jesse were jostled to the center of the boat, pressed tightly among the others. Jesse could no longer see what was happening on shore even when the lightning flared, but he heard splashes as heavy equipment hit the river and sunk. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, trying to dispel nausea, but the odor of wet wool and unwashed bodies did little to settle his stomach. They pressed tighter as more men struggled to reach the boat.
“They’re going to sink us,” Cole muttered.
Jesse pretended not to hear, repeating to himself that it was just a short trip across the river. Finally, the boat shoved off, promising to return if possible. It meandered slowly, weighted down with its burden.
“Think the Yanks know something is up?” Cole asked.
“Probably,” Jesse answered. The thunder masked the noise of their retreat, but the lightning illuminated the night for their enemies as much as for them. He hoped they wouldn’t engage. Island #10 blocked Union access to the river, but they might try moving the artillery and firing on them from land.
But there was no discernible activity in the Union camp. No shells flew. The transport boat continued sluggishly downstream and towards the Tennessee shore. It couldn’t have taken very long, but it seemed like forever before the boat docked on the eastern bank. Although eager to get off the crowded boat, the men exited in a more dignified fashion than the mad scramble to board. Jesse couldn’t fully breathe until he felt solid, if waterlogged, ground beneath his feet.
The men milled about in the rain, miserable and unsure what to do. Jesse caught snatches of conversation, everyone wondering why only one boat had come to evacuate the fort. The transport withdrew to make another trip. The officers tried to gather their regiments in the dark. No one knew who had made it on the boat and who had been left behind.
“Good a time as any to desert,” Cole whispered to Jesse.
“I thought you wanted to fight.”
“I do. I didn’t say I was going to desert, just that this would be a good time to do so.”
“You would get caught.”
“Not me.”
Jesse didn’t reply. He was just glad to be off the river. Eventually they found some other men from their regiment, pitched their tents and settled in for the night. Jesse shivered under his blanket. He was wet through and even though he was exhausted, sleep did not come easily. Thunder receded into the distance and the rain pattered gently overhead. Their retreat had been successful, if inelegant. Now they would fight to keep Island #10 and Southern control over the lower Mississippi. The general had been clear in his intentions, New Madrid was a bitter loss, but the island was key. But as Jesse huddled beneath his blanket seeking warmth and the oblivion of sleep, he couldn’t help but feel like a trap was closing around him and that next time, there would be no escape.

Three


Chapter 3
Present Day
Northwestern Tennessee
Diamond stayed as far behind Bob and Anne as she could and still keep them in sight. Her pulse raced. They were up to something. The vehicles made a lot of noise, so she couldn’t sneak up on them, but she tried to blend in with the other riders she saw, taking short side trips and trying to pretend like she was just messing around.
Riding an all-terrain vehicle was more fun than she would have expected. She didn’t consider herself an outdoorsy type and had always thought tearing around through the dirt to be a pastime for testosterone-infused guys with little brainpower. But zipping through the landscape, no longer confined to roads, was freeing in a way she had not expected. She might come back here sometime when she wasn’t on a story. Just to burn off steam.
For now, however, fun had to take a backseat. Bob appeared to have a destination in mind. He didn’t seek hills or challenging paths but plowed straight towards the river. What could he be up to? The vehicles could ford creeks, but he could never cross the Mississippi. Soon he would run out of land unless he changed direction.
Fairly certain the river was their destination, Diamond veered off to the left, darting into a more heavily wooded area. She kept to the cover, heading west, but in a circuitous route. Losing sight of her quarry, she panicked and sped up. She topped a ridge with a bone-jarring thump and tore through a thicket, grateful for her helmet and heavy winter clothing which prevented her from getting scratched by the bushes and trees.
As she raced onward it took a few minutes for the lack of sound to penetrate her consciousness. Her vehicle roared in her ears, but the noise of the others had faded to a gentle hum. Bob and Anne had stopped—or she had lost them completely.
Diamond drew to a stop and pulled out her binoculars. She swept the woods, then forced herself to slow down and carefully survey the area. There! She glimpsed color in the dreary bleakness of the leafless trees. Cursing the inevitable noise, she moved closer.
Yes. They had stopped in the middle of a large clearing on the bank of the river. Bob climbed out of the vehicle and pulled a bag from the luggage area. Had they