James Grippando - Leapholes

They stopped to rest at the edge of the woods, where the canopy of spring's new buds and leaves gave way to the cotton field. Abigail tied her horse to a tree deep within the forest, so that it couldn't be seen from the farm. As they took their last sips of water from the canteen, Abigail gave the final instructions.

"This is the danger zone," she said in a whisper. "From this point forward, we move quickly and in silence, and only on my command. Understood?"

They nodded.

Abigail pointed fifty yards to the east, across a stream. "See those shacks yonder?"

It was dark, but Ryan's eyes had completely adjusted to the starlit night. He saw three shacks-four, if you counted the little outhouse behind them. They had sagging roofs, and the walls were made of roughly hewn logs. The two on either end were small, but the middle one was twice as big. It was the only one with a chimney. Spring was chilly enough, but winters had to be awfully cold for anyone who wasn't lucky enough to claim a spot by the fire in the big shack.

"Those are the slave quarters," said Abigail.

"How many slaves are there?" asked Ryan.

"Don't know for sure."

"Which shack is Hezekiah in?" asked Kaylee.

"The small one on the end. If you look at the tools hanging on the side of the shack, they're all for planting. The other shacks are for house servants. Hezekiah is a field worker, so he's got to be in that nearest one. The one with the woodpile behind it.

"When I say so, the four of us will run across the field to that woodpile. Then Ryan and I will sneak into the shack and get Hezekiah. Kaylee and Jarvis, you'll be our lookouts. If you see a dog coming at us or an oil lamp light up in the main house, or if you hear footsteps or anything else that worries you, I want you to make a sound like a hoot owl. Can you do that?"

They tried. Woo-hoo, woo-hoo. It sounded pretty authentic.

"Good," said Abigail. "Now, I'm not sure what hour of the night it is in heaven, but I suggest we all bow our heads and make sure the Lord is fully awake and on our side." They joined hands, and Abigail led them in a quick prayer. When they finished, she looked up and said, "Let's do it."

Like a sprinter out of the blocks, Abigail led the way across the open field. The others followed right behind her, moving swiftly and in silence. It seemed to take forever, but in reality it was only a matter of seconds before they were huddled next to one another outside the nearest slave shack. They were hiding behind the woodpile. Jarvis was huffing and puffing. The others were stone silent. Abigail raised a finger to her lips, as if to say Shhhhhhhh. When Jarvis got his loud breathing under control, Abigail gave a quick signal. Kaylee and Jarvis, the two lookouts, remained in hiding. Abigail led Ryan away from the woodpile.

They made a quick dash to the shack and crouched at the front door. Slowly-as carefully as Ryan had ever seen anyone move-Abigail turned the handle and nudged the door open. With the jerk of her head, Abigail signaled Ryan to follow her inside.

Two small windows on opposite walls welcomed a fair amount of moonlight. Ryan counted ten wooden bunks with straw mattresses, five on either side of a narrow center aisle. The chorus of loud snoring was a testimonial to how hard these men worked all day. They were in deep sleep. Ryan took a quick look at each bunk-a bald man, a young man, two big men who could have played football in a later century. Finally, Ryan spotted the mop of gray hair in the bunk at the end of the row. He signaled to Abigail.

That's him, he said without words.

Ryan and Abigail crawled down the aisle on hands and knees. Hezekiah appeared to be sound asleep, curled beneath a smelly old horse blanket. Just the sight of him made Ryan want to jump up and down and shout with joy. He was so glad to have found him, but they had a long way to go before it was time to celebrate. Ryan debated how best to wake him. He was about to flick the old man on the end of the nose when, to his surprise, Hezekiah grabbed his wrist and whispered, "What took you so long, Ryan?"

They shared a smile, then Hezekiah turned deadly serious. He put his lips to Ryan's ears and whispered, "The bald slave closest to the door is an informant for the master. If you wake him, he'll run straight to the house and tell him there's an escape. There might be other informants, too. I don't know."

Ryan nodded, and he fully understood: If there had been any hope of taking additional slaves with them, the prospect of informants among them squelched those plans.

Quietly, Hezekiah peeled back the blanket and rolled out of his bunk. He and Ryan inched across the floor, following right behind Abigail. Just as they reached the door, they heard a noise from outside: Wooo-hooo, wooo-hooo.

The threesome stopped cold. It sounded a little like a hoot owl, but it sounded even more like Kaylee. It was a warning from their look outs.

For a moment, Ryan felt paralyzed. Earlier that night, back at their campsite, Abigail had told them how dangerous this mission was for Hezekiah. She'd warned them that if the posse caught him, the old man would be lucky "if they only shoot him." Ryan didn't want to risk Hezekiah's life. On the other hand, he didn't want to leave him behind in this shack to live in slavery. In the darkness, he glanced at Hezekiah. He, too, seemed to have recognized Kaylee's voice in the wooo-hooo from behind the woodpile. He surely knew the dangers of an attempted escape. But Ryan saw only one message in Hezekiah's eyes.

Keep going.

Without speaking a word, the team became of one mind. Crawling, Abigail led the way to the open door. Ryan was about to follow, but the bald man-the slave that Hezekiah had said was the master's informant-stirred in his sleep. He grunted once, as if something was lodged in his throat. Ryan and Hezekiah pasted their bodies to the floor, lying perfectly still, trying not even to breathe. Finally, the informant fell quiet. Ryan hurried out the door, and Hezekiah was right behind him.

Abigail waved them over to the woodpile. Ryan and Hezekiah rose from their hands and knees and ran in her direction. They rounded the corner at full speed, past the planting tools. Behind the shack, Ryan spotted the collection of shovels spread across the ground, and he easily avoided them. Hezekiah didn't see them until it was too late. Tripping over a pile of tools would have been like sounding an alarm.

Somehow-perhaps it was the twenty-first-century basketball shoes-Hezekiah did a last-second sidestep, pulled a complete three-sixty in the air, and cleared the stack of tools. Ryan looked on with amazement. It was a maneuver worthy of a BMX bicycle champion.

Or of a slave in search of freedom.

They were halfway to the woodpile, speeding past the outhouse, when the door flew open. They stopped in their tracks. They were face to face with a young woman.

"Hey, what-" she started to say, but Hezekiah grabbed her. He covered her mouth with one hand as he took her behind the woodpile. Ryan pulled up behind them.

Kaylee whispered, "That's what we were wooo-hoooing about! Somebody went to the bathroom. We were trying to warn you!"

Hezekiah kept his hand over the woman's mouth. She was a young slave with beautiful almond-shaped eyes. At the moment, however, those eyes were wide with fright. Her belly moved up and down with each breath. It was a huge belly, and then Ryan realized: This young slave was extremely pregnant.

Hezekiah spoke in a calming voice. He knew her by name. "Hannah, don't you worry none, okay? These are my friends. They've come to get me. Do you understand?"

She nodded.

"Now, if I take my hand off your mouth, you're not going to scream, are you?"

She shook her head.

Hezekiah's hand slipped away. She looked up at him, then glanced at the others. She didn't scream, but her voice shook as she said, "Take me with you."