His heart raced as he scrambled to finish his letter. His hand trembled as the ink-covered quill flew across the faded parchment, and he frequently glanced up to check the window for soldiers. He caught sight of a group heading towards his house, and his eyes widened as his hand raced faster, his body shaking with fear at their anticipated arrival.
He heard footsteps pound on the wooden steps leading up the his door, and he frantically began stuffing papers into his overcoat pocket and ran for the door that lead out into the woods. He slung the door open, and came face to face with a burly soldier who had his first raised, ready to pound on the door. He froze, and the soldier took the opportunity to hit him over the head instead of hitting the door.
His vision blurred at the edges, and he hit the ground, cursing himself for not hiding the papers more carefully as he lost consciousness.
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He awoke in a dank, cold cell, and his head throbbed from where he had been hit. He rubbed his temples with his fingers, then fumbled in his coat pocket for his papers. He felt himself begin to panic when he couldn't find the letters, and he sat up abruptly, his hands skimming the ground around him, looking for the parchment.
The burly man that had hit him over the head slammed open the heavy cell door, carrying a tray with bread and water. The soldier shoved the tray at him, and stormed out the door just as dramatically as he had entered. He stared blankly at his bread, and angry thoughts bubbled up into his mind. I don't want the general getting his filthy hands on the rebels' information.
He kicked the tray aside, and his water spilled everywhere. He stood up and paced around his cramped cell, and quickly became tired. He sat back down and tried to make himself comfortable on the now-damp straw that covered the floor. He failed to do so but fell asleep anyways, wishing he had had the common sense to hide the papers better
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His eyes opened when he heard the sound of the cell door slam open again. He sighed and rolled over to see who had entered, groaning as his stuff body moved. The burly soldier was at his door again, a black canvas bag dangling limply from his thick fingers. The soldier lumbered towards him and grabbed him roughly by the collar of his coat, and yanked the bag over his head, and started to lead him down the halls of the jail.
This is it, he thought. This is where I die.
He was dragged unceremoniously outside, and the bag was pulled from his head, allowing him to see again. He squinted at the gallows that now loomed before him, and his breath caught suddenly in his throat. He looked to his side, and saw other members of his rebel unit. He gasped when he saw his friends Joseph and Elias, because they had always been so careful in their cover-up.
Elias heard him gasp, and turned to look at him. "Marcus? You too?" A soldier shouted at Elias to be quiet just as an overweight man stepped into the platform with a piece of yellowed parchment, and Marcus caught a glimpse of a list of names sloppily written on it. As each name was called, a soldier seized the corresponding man from the line and dragged him up to the gallows, and promptly hanged him.
The man called his name: "Marcus Revels." The burly soldier grabbed him again and Marcus thought to himself, God, I really hate this man. As he stumbled up the stairs, he thought of his wife, his newborn, and of all of the things he should've said. Tears ran down his face as he watched the burly man tie the noise that would end his life.
He was ripped suddenly from his dismal thoughts at the sound of gunfire, and shouting that immediately followed it. In the soldier's confusion, he took the opportunity to shove him off the stairs and run. He heard Joseph call his name, and saw him run at him. Marcus lunged toward him and grabbed his arm, and he started running with him to the edge of the camp that they were in.
The gunfire continued to ring out above their heads as they ran for the exit, and men shouted and screamed from fear and pain. A short man ran in front of them and stopped them and Joseph shouted, "What are you doing?!"
He breathed heavily and said, "Are you two Marcus Revels and Joseph Evergreene?" Marcus looked at Joseph then back at the short man and nodded yes. The short man looked solemnly at them both and said, "Then you should really consider following me." He then turned and began running for the edge of the camp.
Marcus and Joseph briefly considered their limited options, then began running after the short man's retreating figure. They quickly caught up to him as he reached a black carriage and turned around, not seeming surprised to see that the two of them had followed. The short man threw open the door to the carriage and climbed in, motioning for them to do the same. Marcus slid across the cushioned seat as Joseph hesitantly followed him.
As soon as the door slammed shut behind them, the carriage shot forward, and Marcus could hear the faint cries of the driver urging the horses further and faster. He and Joseph looked at the short man and he took a deep breath. "So," he said. "I guess I have a lot of explaining to do."
