Sergeant Brett zimmer's Arc

Chapter 2 of 5

Brett spent the night in the barn, watching the dark road through a crack in the wall. The old hound slept against his boot. At first light, he heard hooves again. Not four this time. Two. He raised his rifle and crouched behind a hay bale. The dog lifted its head and thumped its tail. The barn door swung open. Two men in blue stepped inside. Brett froze. He knew the shorter one at once. His younger brother, Joel, an artillery man he had not seen since the unit scattered. Beside him stood Peter, a rifleman from the same broken company. Brett had left them both behind in the smoke a week ago. He had believed them dead. "Brett?" Joel's voice cracked. He crossed the barn in three steps and grabbed his brother's arm. "We tracked your horse. Thought a Reb had you." "You're alive," Brett said. He gripped Joel's shoulder hard. Then he pulled Peter in too. Peter smelled of horse and gun oil. His eyes were red from no sleep. "The patrol," Peter said. "They're coming back. We saw them at the crossroads. Twenty minutes, maybe less." He looked at the barn's single door. "They'll search every building. This inn's on their list." Brett's stomach dropped. He had one horse. Now three men needed to ride, and there was nowhere left to hide. The barn was a box. If the patrol reached it, they would all be cornered together. "How many horses do you have?" Brett asked. "Two," Joel said. "Fresh. We came fast." Three horses, three men. Brett's mind moved. He would not sit and wait to be found. He turned to the innkeeper's rear door, then to the road. The patrol came from the crossroads to the north. That left the south open, if only for minutes. "We ride now," Brett said. "South, away from them. We don't stop for anything." He swung the barn door wide. The innkeeper stood in the yard, pale, listening to the far hooves. "Go," the man said. "I'll send them east. It's all I can give you." Brett mounted. Joel lifted the old hound across his own saddle. Peter took the third horse. They walked the animals quiet past the inn, then broke into a run down the south road. Brett looked back once. Dust rose to the north where the patrol closed on the empty barn. They rode until the inn shrank to nothing behind them. Brett's chest ached, but not from fear now. He was not alone. He had two of his men back. Then Peter pointed ahead. A wide brown river cut across the road. No bridge. The water ran fast and cold. Brett reined up at the bank. Behind them lay the patrol. In front lay the current. Three men, three horses, one old dog, and no clear way across.