War Read Online Free PDF Page B

he and Jake reached School Street, they turned left.
    They passed a tiny wooden shack. Beyond it was a cornfield.
    Where the middle school and football field should have been.
    The road went straight … past Sycamore Street, Linden …
    Spruce.
    Jake shivered. The path felt so familiar under his feet. But the houses, the trees …
    Home.
    There it was.
    Jake couldn’t breathe.
    In front of the house was a huge scraggly yard. A shack where the garage should have been.
    No screen door. No bay window.
    The door hung open, swaying in the breeze.
    “Want to look inside?” Samuelson asked softly.
    Jake barely heard him. He was walking through the front door. Looking.
    Plain dark-wood chairs sat stiffly in the living room. The floors were bare and wooden, covered only by old oval rag rugs. The kitchen was simple — cupboards, basin, counter.
    Only the shape was the same. The frame. The dimensions …
    It was his house. He knew it in his bones.
    He walked from room to room, under the lintels he knew so well, the ceilings that were a little too short because the people were so much smaller then.
    Not then.
    Now.
    A sudden boom snapped Jake out of his reverie.
    Thunder?
    Jake looked around for Samuelson.
    He walked to the kitchen. He could see the sky through the window — clear, sunny —
    A shout.
    From the backyard.
    CRRRRACK!
    That wasn’t thunder.
    He ran to the back door and threw it open.
    Samuelson lay on the grass. Bleeding.
    Just beyond him, in the woods, was a group of men.
    Dozens of them.
    Armed.
    And dressed in gray.

Rebels
    Theirs.

9
    “N O!”
    Jake grabbed Samuelson’s arm and tried to drag him inside.
    “Save yourself, Jake,” Samuelson rasped. “Leave … me.”
    Jake heard the clomping footsteps. He turned.
    A Confederate officer loomed over him. A barrel-chested man with a pockmarked face and long, stringy black hair.
    “We don’t kill the small fish,” he said. “Just the full-grown ones. So back off.”
    He dug the butt of his musket into Jake’s chest and pushed him aside.
    Then he took aim at Samuelson.
    “Don’t shoot him!” Jake leaped at the man.
    He stepped back, grinning. “Brave little fella. Okay, have it your way. You kneel down, nice and easy, and give me all your big brother’s weaponry. Then I want you to yell your little head off. Just in case your friends haven’t heard us yet. Lure the big fish to us.”
    Jake glanced uneasily at Samuelson. “What’ll you do to him?”
    “JUST DO IT!”
    Samuelson nodded. Gestured toward his musket.
    Jake knelt beside him.
    Grab it.
    Shoot them.
    Put them out of their misery.
    “Do … exactly what they want,” Samuelson said, his voice barely a whisper.
    Jake slowly removed Samuelson’s musket and dagger. They were both much heavier than he expected.
    The Rebel officer was aiming at Jake now.
    Jake stood. He approached the man, holding out the weapons.
    SMMMACK!
    The door.
    Jake looked over his shoulder.
    A face.
    Red hair.
    Overmyer.
    In the kitchen doorway. Staring at Jake. At the weapons. At Samuelson.
    “What the — ?”
    A shot interrupted his sentence.
    Overmyer dived back into the house. The kitchen window exploded in a hailstorm of glass.
    “FI-I-I-I-IRE!” shouted the Rebel leader.
    CRRRACK!
    CRRRACK! CRRRACK! CRRRACK!
    No time to think.
    Jake pulled Samuelson into the house. Shoved him into the kitchen.
    Overmyer was slumped over a basin, eyes closed.
    Shouts. Behind them, inside and outside the house.
    Platt. Schroeder. Morris. Williams. Johnson.
    KA-BOOOOM!
    The house next door. Jake could see it out the side window. Collapsing inward.
    “They have cannons!” shouted Schroeder.
    Cannons?
    Jake leaped toward Overmyer.
    He was breathing. But unconscious.
    Jake grabbed his musket. Felt its weight.
    Its power.
    The feeling.
    Jake’s body was coiled. His teeth clenched.
    Do it, Jake.
    Just do it.
    He ran to the back window. Fell to his knees. Took aim.
    Fired.
    Click.
    Nothing.
    CRRRRACK!
    The window above him