The Cellar Read online

  Chapter 5 – Exodus

  One morning Ike thought he heard thunder when he awoke. Soon after gaining consciousness he realized the sound was an artillery battle. Knowing that the sound could carry for miles in some instances he strained his ears to try to determine where it might be coming from. His experience with the sound of artillery told him that the battle was a small one, the spacing of the shots was such that he suspected no more than a half dozen pieces were involved. He also knew that geography and weather conditions could make a distant battle sound as if it were nearby and an entire artillery battery could be firing over the next hill and be barely audible.

  He was straining his ears to hear what was going on when Marcus came down with his breakfast. “The battle is way over by Oxford as best as I can tell. Seems a Yankee regiment has been pursuing some of Chalmer’s cavalry and they are jousting for a while. If the Union men aren’t careful they will be surrounded and cut off.”

  “How do you know so much about it Marcus?” Ike asked.

  News travels fast here. We Africans communicate with jungle drums, don’t you know!”

  How far are they from us?” Ike asked.

  A good five miles or better” Marcus responded, placing Ike’s tray carefully as if nothing of importance was happening. The noise diminished within a few minutes and life returned to normal in the cellar.

  The following evening, Marcus had more news of the engagement. “It seems that your comrades pursued General Chalmers’ men to a point within view of a neighboring plantation. Your artillery men unlimbered in the front yard and began ranging in on the mounted troops as two young women watched them from the veranda. The cannoneers put on a fine show for the damsels. Not to be outdone the rebel cavalrymen dodged the solid shot by quickly sidestepping their horses and bowing as the balls sailed past them. Two of the young fools were blown out of their stirrups as your comrades switched over to canister rounds. The maidens were appalled at the actual sight of bloodshed and retreated into their home just as the Union commander came up and lambasted his men for using up so much powder and shot and pulled his regiment out before they could be flanked by Chalmers.”

  “Marcus, what else do you know about how the war is going?” Ike asked. “Do your jungle drums tell you if there is any end in sight?”

  “I don’t know how far away the end might be, but your army took Vicksburg back in July and on the same day out east there was an awful battle in Pennsylvania.” He paused as if trying to remember something. “Gettysburg was the name of the town I believe, and again the Union forces won it, but at a terrible price. Unfortunately men like Jefferson Davis and Robert E. Lee don’t give up easily. The South will likely lose, but they will fight on until they have lost everything they thought they were fighting for. Their arrogant pride won’t let them lay down their arms easily.”

  “I should be fighting with my regiment, instead of waiting here for the war to end or for your mistress to kill me.” Ike said, hoping not to anger Marcus but also hoping to goad him into releasing him.

  “Sometimes I think I should be fighting too.” Marcus said. “I know your army has finally allowed my people to join your army and engage in combat. We have much more of a stake in this fight than you do, but I am likely too old and I have an obligation to my sister.”

  “If you let me go, I can go back to fighting and you can take care of your sister.” Ike said, thinking he probably had nothing to lose by asking.

  “I am sure you would go back and win the war single handedly, but I think your comrades are doing quite well without you…..or me.” Marcus replied as he headed back up the steps.

  The thought of his own army being so close made Ike restless. He paced back and forth in his small abode, praying for deliverance even if it would put him back in the firing line. Ike was so engrossed in thinking of returning to his comrades that he forgot and wrapped his chain around a chair and started dragging his furniture around the room. Johnny chortled at Ike’s antics as he nearly tripped over the footstool as he tried to regain his dignity.

  Micheline Pendleton was also restless. She had not heard from Todd in weeks. She seemed to have lost weight and looked pale to Ike on the few occasions when she ventured down to check on his well being. Ike was polite, if distant when they spoke. Marcus always barred the door and rolled the grindstone onto it when he left for any amount of time so that his Sister would not be able to enter the cellar without him.

  Ike could see that the strain of not knowing about her son was taking a toll on the woman. He managed to feel sympathy for her in spite of his situation.

  “Mrs. Pendleton, you do not look well. I think you should eat something.” Ike said one evening while his captor was watching the nightly chess game.

  “I am grateful for your concern young man, but I have no appetite. I feel that I have been forsaken by God. I will fast until I hear from my son, or until I die.”

  Marcus looked at the woman and sighed. “Missy, God doesn’t make deals. His ways are not ours and we can’t bend him to our will. I don’t believe that you can make him budge by starving yourself………..or anything else.” He said, looking sideways at Ike.

  “She’s a hurtin’ for sure Ikey.” Johnny said. “You gotta’ pray fer those that persecute you, but try to get out of their way when you can.”

  “I don’t know the chapter and verse on that one Johnny, but I think you’re right.”

  Ike was troubled with dreams again that night. The flames that had consumed his home and his wife tormented him. Scenes from the war moved through his mind as if to review the violence he had seen and participated in. He saw his squad being riddled with bullets in the nearby yard once more and heard their screams as they died.

  The last dream that he could remember upon waking found him standing on the bank of another creek like the one where he had seen his friends and Emma, but this didn’t feel like the same stream, it seemed colder and wider than the one where those who had loved him in life had stood and offered their solace. This time the weather was cooler, only starlight and a quarter of a waning moon illuminated the lonely place where he stood. Somehow he knew that the water was black. The moon was briefly obscured by a cloud and Ike could barely see anything when a lone figure appeared in the distance riding toward the creek on a tall cavalry horse. The clopping of the iron shod hooves on the stony ground echoed in his head like hammer blows on an anvil. Ike thought of this creek as the river Styx, where the one he had seen before seemed to him to be the Jordan. The figure stood and seemed to be staring directly at him when the cloud drifted away and bathed the watcher in moonlight. The horse’s coat shone white as the cold light illuminated it. The rider doffed his broad brimmed hat and held it across his chest as he tilted his head in Ike’s direction. The rider stared at Ike with one blue eye. A familiar looking patch graced the spot where another had once been. The figure raised his chin, and returned the hat to his head. Just before the rider turned the horse Ike noticed a dark stain across the midsection of the man’s uniform. Even in the moonlight, Ike knew it was blood. The mounted man clopped slowly back away from the water’s edge as the moon was once again hidden.

  Ike woke early that morning with the certain knowledge that Todd Pendleton was dead.

  Did you see him last night?” Johnny asked. His voice was solemn for once.

  Yes I did, Johnny, he was riding a pale horse. My time here is getting short isn’t it?”

  Well, I always heard that death rides a pale horse, but I don’t rightly know who that horseman is a comin’ for…”

  Johnny’s musing was cut short by a shriek from the house above. Mrs. Pendleton wailed and shouted. “My God, My God, why hast thou forsaken me?”

  “Sounds like she had the same dream Ike.”

  She will kill me now if she can.” Ike said, looking down at his chain.

  “Change is comin’ Ike, I can’t see what it’s gonna’ be, and I don’t think it’ll be too purty…” Johnny trailed off as if lost in th
ought. Ike wondered if his old friend was trying to spare him with his uncharacteristic silence.

  Marcus was later than usual bringing breakfast. He was as withdrawn as he had been when Ike had first arrived. He looked down and wouldn’t look Ike in the face to answer his unspoken question. He was placing Ike’s breakfast tray on the table when he jumped at a sound behind him. The cellar had been bathed in morning sunlight until a slender shadow partially blocked the stairway.

  Marcus stood in front of Ike, presenting him with a view of his expansive back. “Missy, please go back, this is wrong and you know it.” He said. Ike’s blood seemed to freeze in his veins as he stood behind the wall of the big man’s body and tried to peer around it.

  “Ikey, stay calm and be ready to move. She’s comin’ for you.” Johnny said in what sounded like a stage whisper.

  “I know Johnny, I know. I’ve been expecting this from the beginning. No matter what happens, I’m glad you’re here with me, whether you’re real or just my imagination. Who knows, maybe I get to cross that creek today.”

  “Cain’t see even a short way into the future, but I just don’t think it’s your time yet. Just keep yer’ eyes…..yer’ eye open.”

  Ike still couldn’t see anything but the backside of Marcus as he stood fully erect and faced his Sister. There was silence for a few moments as the two faced off Ike heard the clock upstairs chime eight times and mentally calculated that he would not be here to hear it strike once for the half hour.

  “Step away, Marcus, I don’t want to hurt you.” The woman’s voice came from the foot of the stairs.

  “Why do you want to do this Missy, you haven’t heard from Todd yet.” Marcus said. The big man’s tone was that of an adult talking to a misbehaving child.

  “Oh yes I have Marcus, Todd is dead and you know it. You intercepted the letter from General Forrest. You wanted to protect me……or him…..from the truth.” The woman said.

  “What makes you think that Missy. You don’t know that.” Marcus said. Ike thought he heard a trace of panic in the man’s voice.

  “You know it’s true Marcus. Todd told me that ‘Uncle Marcus’ kept the letter.”

  “Missy, you’re imagining things. You haven’t eaten in days and you are sick. Let me take care of you. Things will look different when you’ve rested and something to eat. Please Missy.”

  “Todd came to me last night and told me all about it. He was shot off his horse by a Yankee private just like our Mr. Lowery here. He suffered terribly. He was shot in the stomach and lingered for hours in pain and now he’s dead. My beautiful son’s soul is wandering the earth looking for justice, I have to give it to him. My last son is dead Marcus. I have nothing to live for, except to even the score. I am going to see to it that Mr. Lowery suffers the same end as Todd. I probably should have just killed him quickly in the beginning to spare Todd the suffering, but you talked me out of it. Now step aside Marcus so I can finish this now!”

  “No Missy, don’t!” Marcus boomed. “Give that to me before you hurt someone!”

  “Marcus Aurelius Broussard……move aside now!” The woman screamed, making Ike’s ears ring even more than usual.

  Marcus lunged forward in an attempt to disarm his sister. Ike saw his body shudder as what sounded like a clap of thunder reverberated throughout Ike’s small abode. The too familiar smell of burnt gunpowder and blood filled the small space.

  The shot made Ike’s ears ring worse. In the close quarters of the cellar, the sound was like standing next to an artillery piece. Marcus’ stumbled sideways and knocked over the table, scattering crockery and silverware all over the cellar. Micheline Pendleton stood looking down at the body of her half brother, who had loved her from the time she drew her first breath. She watched as he drew his last. She knelt and put her hand on his forehead and spoke softly. “Marcus, I am so sorry, I didn’t want to do that. You were the last person on this earth that loved me. Now I am truly alone.”

  One tear slid out of the corner of her eye as she gazed at Marcus. She took a deep breath and turned toward Ike.

  The sympathy that had been on the woman’s face a second ago was gone. He pupils were fully dilated showing black pools that made Ike think of the water in the river where he had been saluted by Todd Pendleton.

  Micheline Pendleton was holding a pistol, possibly the largest pistol Ike had ever seen. The French made LeMat was massive, Ike had heard of the LeMat, but had never seen one, and would like not to have seen this one. The gun had a nine round cylinder that rotated around a second barrel which was that of a 16 gauge shotgun. The black maw of the shotgun barrel was smoking, having discharged its load of buckshot into Marcus. Mrs. Pendleton manipulated a lever on the hammer so that the gun would fire again from one of its other chambers and pointed it at Ike’s midsection. She held the gun in both hands.

  “I don’t think she’s bluffin’ this time Ike, don’t know a lot about them French pistols, but after what she did to Marcus, I s’pect this one’s loaded.” Johnny rasped.

  “I had hoped and prayed that it would not come to this Mr. Lowery, I believed that this was going to work out so well, but I was deceived by Satan. This has all been just a trick of his to lure me down to perdition. You seem to have been a pawn in his game, a white pawn….” She looked down at Marcus briefly and said. “I suppose Marcus was my black knight. I am going to shoot you, then I am going to set this house on fire, and then I am going to shoot myself. No one is left to claim this house except the bank and they will only find ashes. I may be going to Hell for this, but I will not go alone.” She stood looking at him and cocked the hammer. The click of the mechanism sounded to Ike like the gates of that same establishment slamming shut.

  “Ikey, the chain!” Johnny shouted. His voice seemed so loud to Ike that he flinched and as he did he looked down and saw that Micheline Pendleton had stepped over the chain that led from Ike’s left foot to the ring in the wall. Just as her finger was tightening on the trigger Ike swung his leg violently, whipping the chain around and pulling the woman’s feet out from under her.

  The explosion was another thunderclap, made louder by the fact that there was not a large man between himself and the gun’s muzzle this time. Ike had flung himself toward the floor as he tripped up his would be killer with the chain. The bullet missed him by mere inches, caromed off two of the stone walls, and buried itself in one of the floor joists above, sprinkling sawdust into the already clouded air. The combination of the chain pulling her feet out from under her and the recoil of the LeMat threw the woman back against the stone wall. The back of her skull was impaled on the nail that had been driven into the mortar joint to hold Ike’s mirror. She hung there against the wall with her eyes open. She assumed her characteristic intense stare for a moment and then her eyes seemed to lose their focus as her limbs sagged and her jaw dropped open. Micheline Pendleton was dead.

  Ike blinked and looked at the chaos that surrounded him. Gun smoke and rock dust swirled in the air. Larger particles flashed in the bright sun light that came down the stairway. His hearing seemed to be gone.

  “Johnny, are you still there?” Ike said out loud, barely hearing his own spoken words.

  “She missed me, Ikey, but I thought for sure the ricochet was gonna’ get me.” He said with a little chuckle and then interjected “Merciful God!”

  “That sounds like swearing, Johnny.”

  “No, I’m talkin’ about the real thing here Ike. I just saw the two of them floatin’ out of here. She looked confused at first, then Marcus took her hand and they just looked up that stairway into the light. They both looked back at you and smiled to see that you were alright. I ain’t never swearin’, Ikey, I was just talkin’ about a merciful God.”

  “I’m glad, Johnny, that’s comforting to know.” Ike said standing up and dusting himself off. He looked around the cellar and took stock of the situation and then moaned. “Johnny, I could use some of that mercy myself. I have a few problems here. I’m truly grateful not
to be gut shot and dying with the house burning down around me, but I am chained to the wall of this cellar with two corpses and a wingless angel for company. Marcus never did say what he did with the key to this lock.”

  “Better search his pockets, Ikey.”

  Ike was loath to touch Marcus but he gingerly went through each item of clothing to check for the key. The thought of finding that key burned in Ike’s imagination as he tried to not think too much about the alternative.

  “Ikey, you don’t s’pose Mama Pendleton had the key?” Johnny said tentatively.

  Ike found it hard to even approach Mrs. Pendleton. Her eyes were still open and seemed to stare straight at him as he scanned her clothing for pockets. He noticed a delicate chain around her neck and out of curiosity he pulled it out of her shirtwaist and discovered a locket. The locket was still warm from contact with her skin as he studied it. It popped open to reveal two small pictures, one of a young Micheline and the other a young Marcus. Ike looked into the young faces and thought of the people they had been in a happier time. He jumped at the sound of the clock striking the half hour and dropped the still open locket and let it fall to the woman’s breast. The pockets of her skirt contained nothing but a handkerchief.

  Ike scanned the cellar as if there were answers that would reveal themselves to him. He righted one of the chairs and the table and picked up silverware and salvageable food items. Two biscuits were still warm and wrapped in a napkin. A fried egg and some bacon were scattered too close to the chamber pot for Ike’s comfort, but he knew food might be a serious issue very soon. The water pitcher had been broken and none remained. Only the cup and a saucer remained intact. He arranged the food items on the table as if breakfast had not been interrupted by bloodshed and looked around once more. He nibbled on a biscuit until he realized how thirsty it made him. He closed his eyes and prayed.

  The first thing he noticed when he opened his eyes was the pistol laying against the wall. He stared at it for a few minutes and thought of its possibilities. He thought of using it to shoot the lock off the shackle, but remembered how Mrs. Pendleton’s shot had caromed around the cellar. Another darker thought entered his mind. If he was unable to free himself from the chain and thirst, starvation, and the stench of the two corpses became too much he could free himself in another way.