Glimmers of Change (70 page)

Colonel Anderson advanced into the room, his eyes locked on the three officers. “Get out of here,” he said flatly.

“Hey, you can’t talk to us like that!” one of the police officers protested.

“If it were up to me, I wouldn’t be talking to you at all,” Anderson barked. “I would just haul you off to jail and lock you up for the rest of your life. Or maybe I should just follow the fine example you set here today and shoot you.” His eyes narrowed with anger. “The Institute is now under the control of the United States military. Get out of here before I change my mind and do what I want to do.”

The three policemen, their eyes blazing with fury, turned and stalked from the room.

Only then did Colonel Anderson step around the barricade his men had formed. His eyes widened with shocked surprise. “Matthew!”

“About time you got here,” Matthew muttered, needles of pain shooting through his legs as they came back to life. “Ben needs help. He’s a reporter for the
Boston Globe
.”

“What happened here?” Anderson demanded.

“I’ll tell you later,” Matthew replied. “Please just get Ben to the hospital. He was shot in the side.”

Anderson nodded to his men. “Pick him up and carry him downstairs. There is a wagon right outside the door.”

His two men exchanged uncertain glances. “What if someone tries to stop us?” one of them asked.

“Shoot them,” Anderson said bluntly. “Aim to kill. It’s time we sent a message.” He watched his men carry Ben out of the hall and then turned back to Matthew. “Do you need to go to the hospital?

“No,” Matthew assured him faintly, the reality of everything swarming through him now that he and Ben had been rescued.

Anderson’s eyes blazed as they swept the room. “My God!” he whispered. “How did this happen?” He shook his head and looked down at Matthew. “Do you need help?”

“I’ve been cramped up under the platform for a few hours,” Matthew admitted. “My legs are still deciding if they want to work.”

Anderson leaned down to peer under the platform, taking note of the blood pooled where Ben had been lying. He knelt down next to Matthew, wrapped an arm around his waist, and helped him stand, supporting him when Matthew swayed.

Now that Matthew was not limited to what he could see through the crack, he couldn’t control the vomit that rose in his throat as the sight of bodies, already bloated from the heat and covered with flies, filled his vision. He leaned forward as his body expelled the horror he had experienced for the last three hours. Anderson held him firmly and then handed him a canteen full of water. Matthew reached for it gratefully, drinking until the canteen was empty.

“I’m sorry,” Anderson said gruffly.

Matthew sighed. “I know you had no control to stop it.”

“No,” Anderson agreed, bitterness lacing his voice. “What happened here was wrong. I am ashamed our government let it happen.”

Matthew nodded. “I am, too,” he said heavily. “Memphis was terrible, but this was far worse.”

Anderson’s eyes swept the room again. “How did this happen?” he asked again.

Matthew swallowed and then told him.

Anderson stared at him, his mouth opening and closing as he searched for words. He finally found them. “The
police
did this? While the people were trying to surrender?”

Matthew nodded. The telling of the story had been almost as terrifying as living it. “I have to get out of here,” he murmured. His lungs suddenly felt starved for air. His head started to whirl as he gasped for breath. “I gotta get out of here.”

Anderson held him firmly as they moved toward the door.

Matthew fought to control his vomit as they squished through pools of blood on the landing, walking carefully around dead bodies that filled the stairwell. He broke down in tears when he recognized one of the men staring up at him with sightless eyes.

“Do you know him?” Anderson asked gently.

“That’s Ralph,” Matthew gasped. “The man who warned me yesterday.”

Anderson nodded grimly and led him outside into the sultry air.

The air wrapped around him while the putrid aroma of bodies bloated by the intense heat hit Matthew in the face. His heart began to pound wildly as he fought to pull air into his lungs.

“Somebody get over here!” Anderson shouted.

Matthew felt Anderson’s arms grab him as the blackness swallowed him.

Matthew woke to the feel of a cool compress on his head. He lay still, confusion swamping him. Where was he? Suddenly the events of the day came swarming back. He groaned.

“Mr. Justin?”

Matthew opened his eyes reluctantly, wishing he could just slide back into the oblivion. When his vision cleared, he identified an elderly white woman with snowy hair. Bright blue eyes shining with concern and compassion gazed down at him.

“Welcome back,” she said softly.

Matthew could only stare at her. He didn’t want to be back. He didn’t want to have to remember the pile of dead bodies…the pleading voices…the hatred…He groaned and closed his eyes again.

The woman continued speaking softly. “The city is under martial law now. Most of the wounded have been removed from the jail and are now in the hospital.”

“How many dead?” Matthew asked, his eyes still closed.

“They don’t know yet.”

The hesitant tone in her voice told Matthew just how bad it was. He gritted his teeth.

“My name is Abby Youngers.”

Matthew’s eyes opened reluctantly. “I know another woman named Abby,” he said. This time he kept his eyes open long enough to inspect his caregiver. “You have eyes like she does.” He moved restlessly. “Where am I?”

“My home onn the far east side of New Orleans. Colonel Anderson had his men bring you here.”

“You know Colonel Anderson?”

“He is married to my sister,” Abby revealed.

Matthew looked at her with surprise. Her accent clearly identified her as a southerner.

Abby smiled. “My sister left New Orleans years ago for school in the North. She was quite a bit younger than me. She never came back.”

Matthew tried to remember what he knew about Anderson’s wife, but he drew a blank. “She’s not here in the city now?”

“No. She refused to come. She didn’t want their children exposed to southern bigotry.” Abby’s matter-of-fact voice held no rancor. “I have tried to give the colonel a feeling of home. He comes here for meals whenever he can get away.”

“You don’t resent him?” Matthew asked, trying to understand why he was here.

“Why would I?” Abby asked gently.

“He’s a Yankee. He fought for the Union. Your city is now under military control once again.”

Abby nodded calmly. “As it should be.”

Matthew looked at her sharply. “You’re a Unionist?”

“I prefer to not be labeled,” Abby said evenly. “I would rather just be seen as a woman who believes all people are created equal. I believe there have been horrible mistakes made on both sides during the last six years. I am quite sure more will be made.”

Matthew appreciated her candor enough to respond with the same. “I’ve never seen such hatred as I experienced today.” He closed his eyes as he fought off a shudder. “How will our country ever survive this kind of prejudice?”

Abby grimaced. “I learned a long time ago that there are some people with so little brains or ability that all they have to be proud of is the color of skin they happened to be born with. We’ve got a lot of those in New Orleans.”

Matthew’s lips twitched as he stared into her indignant eyes.

Abby laid another cool cloth on his head. “Hating people because of their color is wrong. It doesn’t matter which color does the hating. It’s just plain wrong.”

“Yes, but there is a lot of it happening.” Matthew wanted to blot out the images filling his mind, but they still swarmed in. He closed his eyes as they wrapped around his heart and squeezed it tightly.

“So you just decide to hate, too? You believe that will make things better?”

Matthew’s eyes flew to her. He didn’t bother to ask how Abby could see into his heart. He shook his head, trying to make sense of the haze filling him. “I’ve tried not to,” he murmured. “I was in Memphis during the riot there. I thought nothing could be more horrible.”

“Until you came here?”

“Yes,” Matthew said bluntly.

“And now you have no hope for our country.” Abby stated.

Matthew turned his head to look out the window, seeing nothing but darkness. It was just the way he felt inside. He didn’t have an answer — at least not one he wanted to admit to.

“Can I ask you a question, Matthew?”

Matthew nodded silently, his insides churning.

“If you knew that hope and despair were paths to the same destination, which one would you choose?”

Matthew considered her question. The answer seemed obvious, but he knew she was asking for another reason. He mulled the question in his mind, knowing she would give him time to ponder it. As he stared into the night he realized that whether he liked it or not, the sun was going to rise on the United States in the morning. Decisions were going to be made, and lives were going to be impacted. A new day would begin…A new day that would roll into months, years, decades, and centuries. There was nothing that was going to stop the passage of time.

If you knew that hope and despair were paths to the same destination, which one would you choose?
Matthew smiled slightly. “Are all women wise?”

Abby chuckled. “No, but most of us have far more time to think then men do because too many of you seem to believe we have nothing worthwhile to say.”

This time Matthew was able to respond with a small chuckle of his own. “I know far too many wise women to ever think that,” he protested.

“Yes, I know that.”

Matthew looked at her. “I thought you said the colonel’s
men
dropped me off?”

“The colonel told me all about you months ago,” Abby said softly. “Did you think he would forget that you saved his life after the escape from Libby Prison?”

Matthew shook his head. “Neither one of us will ever forget that time. He helped keep me going…”

“When you were in Rat Dungeon,” Abby finished for him. She laid a hand on his shoulder tenderly. “Matthew, you have experienced many reasons to give up hope.”

Matthew appreciated the warmth of her hand. The feel of it gave him courage to gaze into her eyes. “I’m afraid,” he said hoarsely.

“Of course you are,” Abby agreed. “You would be a fool if you weren’t. I’ve had many things to be afraid of,” she said gently, “but hope has carried me through. I learned a long time ago that hope is some extraordinary spiritual grace God gives us to
control
our fears, not make them nonexistent.” She reached up and stroked his hair. “Now go to sleep. The colonel will be back in the morning. You can get all your questions answered then.”

Matthew stared into her eyes, drawing hope and strength from the light he saw shining there. Then he closed his eyes and let sleep claim him.

The sun was just peeking over the horizon when Matthew opened his eyes again. He was surprised to see Abby still sitting beside his bed, knitting calmly. “Were you here all night?”

Abby smiled and set her knitting aside. “No. You slept peacefully through the night. I simply wanted to be here when you woke. I wasn’t sure you would remember where you are.”

Matthew was surprised how well he had slept. He knew Abby’s tender words had banished the worst of the memories so that he could sleep. “Thank you for what you said last night.”