The thickly falling snow muffled their march north. The heady emotions of men tasting tentative freedom after a year of captivity accompanied them.
Contrary to his habit of leading marches, Robert had placed himself at the rear of the formation, his body a shield between Lieutenant Pace and the pitiful remains of a once proud southern army. Perhaps worried for the health and sanity of his officer, Corporal Anders soon walked at Robert’s side, trusting the men would follow the trail north despite the growing depth of snow.
Eventually, Robert talked softly, as if not wishing to disturb his men, trusting only Anders with his thoughts.
“I failed John,” Robert used the Corporals Christian name in rare familiarity worrying Anders. “I hoped to lead the Third Mississippi home when the killing was done. We wanted to see our families.”
“Damn hard to do when war is killing everyone, Major,” Anders spoke quietly, bitterly. “I’ve never seen you as a dreamer, sir.”
“It is the only care I have since Sharpsburg, to save as many men as possible from the butcher’s list. I have owed you all the honor of my best leadership for the faith you placed in me.”
“Begging your pardon, major, but you are not God almighty. You cannot control the chaos of war. We followed you because you are a damn good leader. We know you care about us and we know you will not back down from a fight.”
“Nor does the Robber King.”
“Sir?”
“I saw the Robber King on the Tulip.” Robert’s voice was almost inaudible. “It tried to look like Lieutenant Pace but could not maintain the face. All teeth and damn hungry. It was smart John. It knew what I was thinking and reacted like it enjoyed my fear.”
“I knew you saw something,”
“Do you understand?” Robert pursued his point. “We cannot make plans because the king will know what we are thinking.”
“It didn’t die on the Tulip?”
“Things like that do not die. I’m certain it survived. That is why I set the trap in the North woods. Our men will kill the King if it gets close.”
“Why would it go there?” These plans were new to Anders, giving a new meaning to the last visit north.
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“The raft. That abomination does not want any of us to escape the island, but if it reads our minds, the Robber King knew the raft was a trap. We suffer convenience of the King. Either the men in the North woods will be dead or alive. That is my last failure, assuming the King thinks like you and I. It does not. I believe my men in the North Woods are dead.”
Neither man said anything for several minutes as the column entered the scrub pine at the north end of the field.
“How do we get off this island?” Anders edged his way around trees.
“Through the Robber King.” The King knew all secrets and nothing hidden from sight. It was like a battle of maneuver, each side in sight and each hoping to find the best position before their enemy. “Do you remember Private Holm’s story?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Why did the Robber King go into the cave?”
“To get here,” Anders gave the obvious answer. “To come to Coal Island.”
“Why?” Robert prodded.
“Coal Island is its home,”
“Those men in the story and everyone on Coal Island have followed a bear into its den,” Robert agreed.
“Sir? The point?”
“Where is the nest?”
They walked in silence, two shadows among many, while Anders came to terms with the question.
“Crap.”
“Major,” a man called from the front of the column.
“Speak of the devil,” Corporal Anders spat.
“Yes.” Robert quickened his pace and walked past his men, who were coming to a jerky halt.
The man leading the column was a dark shadow barely recognizable as one of the few lumber jacks remaining on the island. “Major, I’m seeing shadows in the trees.”
“We’ve seen them before.”
“Not like this, sir,” the man watched the woods.
“Look, look,” another man pointed in a different direction into the trees. Everyone turned to see what the man was pointing towards. “That was Jenkins. I know it was him... but he died at the quarry,” the voice trailed off.
“I saw Johnson,” the first man revealed in a bemused voice. “He died today.”
“Stop,” The men reached the point when fear could drive them to make foolhardy decisions. “Gather close.”
The southern men formed a circle in the snow, attentive to Robert.
“We know this island is a strange place.” Conviction was strong in Robert’s voice. “We know evil torments us. We know the evil in our midst has killed many of us. This does not differ from the war we have endured for years.”
The men remained motionless forms in the dark, impossible to define in sight and emotion.
“This island is only different. The war is different here. Perhaps we can draw comfort from the presence of our dead. Perhaps they wish to comfort us.”
The men rustled as they tried to consider a different view of the woods.
“Our own country declared us rebels. As Rebels our spirit will never die.”
Murmurs of ascent came from the men.
“Corporal Anders, I need a song.”
“Yes Sir,” From the corporal’s tone, Robert guessed Anders was smiling. “You heard the man. Dixie. Move out.”
Despite shadows growing prevalent in the woods, specters seeming to gather and watch the parade of the living, a sense of defiance took hold as the Rebels returned to the men they were before deprived of their freedom.
They sang of home with energy and verve that gave Robert heart, despite the sure knowledge that all the living on Coal Island were being watched and hated by something inhuman.