Richmond lay a fortnight behind.
The hard biscuits and smoked bacon that Ann had packed for them were gone within the first three days of leaving Richmond. It was John’s idea to keep plodding south at breakneck pace for fear of Billingsly or hired men giving chase. They sopped up water from streams along the way, and even caught a couple of thin trout in one of the streams.
Wayworn and famished for food, drink, and sleep, they wended along on adrenaline and the naked reality of putting as much distance between them and Richmond as quickly as possible.
While the fear of being nabbed by Billingsly began to slake a bit as they covered more ground, their adrenaline began to evaporate as they walked along in a thatch of pine trees, each step harder than the next. Suddenly, they dropped to the carpeted forest floor together, unable to will their tired bodies to keep moving forward. It was a good place as any to rest and recuperate.
The warm spring temperature dropped with the sun; periodic nippy breezes ripped through the forest. Douglas removed a gray wool blanket from his haversack and wrapped it around himself and fell to the carpeted forest floor. He was asleep inside of ten seconds and snoring within thirty.
When John had packed his haversack, he’d never thought about bedding; he was focused more on just getting away from Richmond. Looking at Douglas wrapped snugly in the wool blanket caused John to think of his grandmother’s quilt.
But thinking of his grandmother’s quilt led to thoughts about his poor mother and whether he had put her life in jeopardy. He knew Billingsly would have questions, and he wondered what she’d tell Billingsly, what she’d tell the law. He was sure both had been to visit. He closed his eyes to erase any thoughts of Billingsly. His legs were nerveless and ready to collapse; he removed the flasks from the poke sack that was inside of the haversack and stuffed it with duff. He then put the flasks in his haversack, put the duff pillow under his head, and curled up in a fetal position to conserve body heat.
Ten hours later, Douglas’s eyes, glued shut with dried rheum, popped open. He rolled over onto his back, sticking his arms out of his blanket, and stretched them to shake off the stiffness in his muscles. He leaned over and shoved John, who was in a deep sleep and didn’t respond. Douglas shoved harder, turning John over onto his stomach.
John moaned.
“Wake up, sleepyhead,” Douglas said.
John sat up slowly, happy to see daylight, though concerned by the fog that hung in the air.
The sun was almost at its zenith, and the fog was burning off, just in time to search to sate their hunger pangs.
Something caught Douglas’s attention. “What’s that over there?” he asked, pointing to a grayish, weather-beaten wood building in the distance.
An elm tree obscured part of the building, blocking John’s view. “Where?”
”Down yonder,” Douglas said, standing closer to John while pointing at it.
Douglas packed his haversack, slung it over his shoulder, took his first steps out of the protective covering of the forest, and eased cautiously into a fallow field, headed for the building.
John was hesitant to follow, like a cub afraid to leave the safety of his den to follow his mother on unfamiliar terrain. Douglas widened the gap between him and John, and soon Douglas was three hundred feet in front of him, obscured by the swales and bushes that dotted the field.
John felt the gulf between them grow like a weed. He removed the pocket watch from his haversack and looked at the time. Panic set in as he realized that for the first time since they’d left Richmond a few days ago, Douglas was no longer within eyesight or even a loud whisper. He put his haversack on his shoulder and decided to act. Like the frightened cub, John left the safety of his den, running as fast as his still half-asleep body would allow.
A large reddish-brown doe crossed his path and stopped, training her saucer-plate eyes on John, who was paralyzed in his tracks. The doe snorted and stomped her forelegs, trying to persuade John to move. She was protecting her fawn that John hadn’t seen sleeping in tall timothy. John caught his breath and walked laterally and slowly away from the deer to show her he meant no harm.
As he widened the gap between him and the doe, the doe lowered her head and resumed chewing the timothy. He descried a large beech tree about forty yards in front of him, which he hurried to. He took off his haversack and slid down against the tree. He sat under the tree, tossing rocks in front of him, wondering if he’d be left to fend for himself in a world that was unfamiliar to him. He retrieved the pocket watch again from the haversack and figured nearly an hour had passed since Douglas had gone out ahead of him. It seemed longer. No sight of Douglas. No sound of him.
He decided to move again. He stood up, found his next target, another beech tree ahead of him, and slogged to it. After reaching the base of the tree, he fell hard to the ground, having no strength to bend down to sit.
Ann’s unforgettable smile that he captured as time had drawn nigh for him to flee Richmond popped into his thoughts. He wanted to touch her, to have her hug him. The guilt at this moment ravaged his mind. He’d come clean and tell Billingsly about Laura and the flasks and hope for mercy. He regretted his decision to leave Richmond, and now he’d give an eyetooth to return to the place he’d despised for so long, all to ease his mother’s pain.
He removed his ragged cotton shirt, exposing ribs that poked like ladder rungs through drum-taut skin. While sitting up against the tree, his strength left his body and he slumped sideways. Madame Billingsly was dead because of him. His actions were sure to devastate Monsieur Billingsly once he learned about his wife. And he had left his precious mother back in Richmond under a false pretense. He had killed one person and knocked the heart and souls out of two.
To join the carnage he left behind, he struggled to cover his torso with his shirt as though it were a shroud. He moved his hands across patches of dirt and grass as though he were touching his final resting spot. Douglas had failed him by leaving him to fend for himself. He had no strength to look for him. Each hunger pang increased in intensity and his mind had loosened such that he dreamt of dying to get away from the hell on earth he had created. If he was lucky, he’d die in that spot, and someone would find him and dig up dirt and throw his guilt-laden body in a hellhole he felt he deserved.