James Grippando - Leapholes

"Below weightlessness. Negative mass, meaning less than zero."

"How is that possible?"

"That's beyond me, Ryan. But I'm told that sometimes when two pieces of metal are close together, negative mass can be achieved in the space between them."

Ryan thought for a moment, considering the implications for leapholes. "So the two shackles, the two rings of metal around the ankle of your ancestor, that created negative mass?"

Hezekiah shrugged. "Perhaps. But that still doesn't account for the energy that is necessary to launch time travel. Scientists tell me that it would take every bit of energy our sun could produce, and then some, just to make one trip."

"Where could that much energy come from?"

"The human spirit, maybe. The desire to be free. I don't know of anything more powerful than that."

Ryan considered it. Coming from anyone but Hezekiah, it might have sounded corny. But how else could leapholes be explained?

Hezekiah was on his feet again. "See that," he said. "Just talking about it has me energized and feeling better."

Ryan was not entirely convinced by his sudden recovery, but he knew that it was pointless to argue.

"Come on," said Hezekiah. "Let's have a look at that campsite."

They continued up the final hill. As they neared the top, Ryan heard something that sounded like static from a television set. He knew that was impossible. Even if television had existed in 1857, what would it be doing in the middle of nowhere? Still, the higher they climbed, the louder the static hiss. Finally, they reached the hill crest, and immediately they saw the source of the strange noise.

"Look," said Hezekiah, pointing.

Ryan looked straight west, toward the wide body of noisy, rushing water, glistening in the moonlight. "That's quite a river," said Ryan.

"That's not just a river. That's the river, as in the Mississippi. Do you know what that means?"

"We're east of the Mississippi."

"Yes, exactly. And that road we crossed on the way over here had to be the St. Louis-Vincennes Trace."

"The what?"

"The St. Louis-Vincennes Trace was a major transportation route in the nineteenth century. It ran from Vincennes, Indiana to St. Louis Missouri. Do you understand what I'm saying, Ryan? It cut across southern Illinois."

A smile came to his lips. "Kaylee's leaphole whirled us east of St. Louis. We landed in a free state."

"You got it, buddy."

"That's… that's awesome. Hannah's baby was born in a free state. L'new was born free!"

"Never underestimate the power of leapholes," said Hezekia!"

Ryan was about to shout with excitement, but Hezekiah quickly covered the boy's mouth with his hand. The old man's eyes filled with concern as he whispered, "Look down."

Ryan's gaze shifted from the river in the middle distance to the base of the hill directly below them. They had found the campsite on the bank of the river. Through the tree branches, Ryan counted eight men seated around the glowing campfire.

"It's the posse," Hezekiah whispered. "Come on. Follow me."

Slowly and very quietly they descended the hill for a closer look. A twig or two snapped beneath Ryan's step, but steady noise from the flowing river water was more than enough to drown out the sound. They hid behind a stack of gray boulders at the bottom of the hill.

Hezekiah whispered, "Look at the man third from the right. The one with the beard."

Ryan peered out over the top of the boulder. He and Hezekiah were hidden in darkness, but the men were plainly visible in the light of the campfire. Ryan's gaze locked onto that third man from the right, and shivers went down his spine. He recognized that long, gnarled beard and that broad felt hat. But the eyes were the clincher. Ryan had seen those eyes before, when that slave owner in Missouri had let his slaves in the cotton field drink from the mule's water bucket. Ryan would never forget those black, shark-like eyes.

"That's old man Barrow."

"You bet it is," said Hezekiah. "He's come to get me."

"But how could he find us? We spun clear out of Missouri with Kaylee's leaphole."

"I told you before. He's evil-with a capital E."

This time, there was no misunderstanding Hezekiah's implication. "Legal Evil," said Ryan. "Is this the place you told me about, where the brood follows the dam?"

"No," said Hezekiah, "but we're getting close. Let's go. We have to get back and warn Hannah."

"Are you going to be okay walking all that way?"

Hezekiah chuckled lightly, then pointed with a nod toward the team of horses hitched to a tree by the river. "Who said anything about walking?"

The old man had a sudden burst of energy, and Ryan hurried to catch up. They kept low to the ground and approached the horses slowly, careful not to startle them. A big weeping willow tree stood between the horses and the campsite, which only made their job easier.

"Should we turn them all loose?" whispered Ryan.

"No, no. The men will come after us with guns blazing. We'll just take one."

Hezekiah quickly untied the reins from the tree. He chose one, then reconsidered. He took the biggest, fastest-looking horse in the pack. Standing a good fifteen hands in height, its gorgeous black coat shone in the moonlight. Hezekiah stroked its powerful neck, and the horse let out a soft, throaty neigh.

"I think he likes me," said Hezekiah. He retied the other horses to the tree and led the big one away from the camp, along the riverbank. When they were a safe distance away from the posse, Hezekiah stopped.

"Isn't this stealing?" said Ryan.

"If Old Man Barrow can whip me like an animal and think nothing of it, God will surely forgive me for taking one of his horses. Now help me up."

The horse had no saddle, but riding bare back was preferable to the long walk home. Ryan gave the old man a shove, and Hezekiah was up quickly. He offered Ryan a hand and pulled the boy up behind him. With a gentle kick, Hezekiah brought the horse to a light trot. Ryan held on to him, but after a few minutes of riding, it felt more like he was holding up Hezekiah. Back at the river he had momentarily seemed like his old self. Clearly, that had been nothing but adrenalin. The sudden surge of strength had since passed, and Hezekiah was again slipping into his weakened state.

Ryan retreated into thought as they started back across the prairie toward the sod house. All he could think about was the posse, old man Barrow, and the determination of Legal Evil. It genuinely scared him.

He wondered if Hezekiah was up for the fight.

On the back of a lively thoroughbred, the ride back to the sod house took hardly any time at all. Ryan and Hezekiah dismounted and came through the front door to find Hannah's baby asleep in the young mother's arms. Ryan spoke softly, so as not to wake the infant, but the news was too good for Hannah to remain quiet.

"Illinois! We're in Illinois!" That was all she could say for about thirty seconds, grinning east to west. Miraculously, Baby L'new slept right through the excitement.

"Are you sure?" asked Abigail.

"No doubt in my mind," said Hezekiah. "We're east of the Mississippi River and just a couple miles south of the St. Louis-Vincennes Trace."

"Praise be," said Abigail. "Now that I know where we are, I can line up my contacts on the underground railroad. I can get you, Hannah, and her baby as far as Chicago, if need be."

"That might well be necessary," said Hezekiah.

Hannah looked confused. "Why do we have to go anywhere? Illinois is a free state. We's free, right?"

Hezekiah spoke gently, trying not to scare her. "Ryan and I spotted a posse on the Illinois side of the river. Slave catchers don't stop at borders, Hannah. It's best if we get as far away from Old Man Barrow's farm as we can."