Southern Helle (An Interracial Romance Story)

Chapter 14

I watched as the wood splintered and burned. The charred pieces of timber crashed to the ground. Mr. Morgan was still in there, and as the seconds passed, my hope that he was still alive dwindled. 

I saw the mob move from the right side of my vision to my left. The house blocked them for a while, but they made it to the well on the left. Mr. Morgan told me that well was full of water, that’s why he lived out here.

I shrieked and as soon as the sound escaped my parted lips, I covered my mouth. One of the people of the gang stepped towards me to see where my noise came from. His eyes swept the area, landed on the bush I was hiding behind, and then swept on. 

A man on a horse trotted towards the group. He wore a 10-gallon hat, and dark clothes. “They dead?” He asked, looking from them to the fire. His accent was thicker than day old oatmeal. I really couldn’t see much of his features because of the distance, but I could tell he was really tall. 

“I don’t know we haven’t put out the fire to see.” Some other man said with a bite. 

The horseman pulled on the reins around the horse. “Contain this shit. We don’t need a repeat of what happened last year.” 

Last year? Do they do this often?

“Get some buckets and pull some water out the well.” He commanded. The mob scattered, along with the horseman, around trying to find supplies that would help them to contain this fire burning in front of my eyes. 

One of the men in the crowd passed through the back of the building close to the bushes. I stood still and watched him. He took in the scene of the burning building and smiled as if he was happy about his work. 

Wind rustled the leaves and pushed the fire towards the town. It also pushed me down. I placed my hand under me to cushion my fall. It broke a twig. The man’s head snapped towards me. His eyes searched the bushes for the cause of the sound. I crouched into a ball so he wouldn’t see me. 

His eyes looked back to the blazing building, and then walked towards the town. His feet walked over some of my footprints and I was happy about that. He stepped out of sight.

Moments later, a dark figure inched out the house on the floor. Mr. Morgan! I wanted to scream and shout because he’s alive, but I knew that was a bad idea. The smoke of the fire painted his body and clothes black. 

I stood up from the ground, being mindful of the mob to my left, and ran in a crouch to the building to retrieve his body. He had a bad leg, and he wouldn’t be able to get over here on his own. 

Mr. Morgan was on the verge unconsciousness. There were severe burns on his sides and legs. It was all puffy and red, it disgusted me. On his chest, he clutched onto a photo frame. 

“Mr. Morgan,” I whispered. He responded with a short and terrified moan. I tried helping him to his feet so it would be easier to carry him into the bushes. However, because he’s old, heavy and disabled, it wasn’t an easy task. 

We limped across the rubbly ground. His body dragged me down. I struggled to get both of us up. “Come on, Mr. Morgan, we’re almost there.” I told him. We had a long way to go, but I was trying to give him hope. If we lose hope, we lose this battle against them and we had to win.

I wrapped my arm gingerly around his waist as to not touch any of his wounds. He draped his arm over my shoulders and we continued wobbling to safety. 

“What’s that over there?” A female voice rang out. I almost looked back, but that would surely give us away. We kept walking, even as most of the attention turned on us.

We made it into the woods, but not before the man of the horse came back. He didn’t spot us, thankfully. I let Mr. Morgan down once we got through a few of the trees to rest. 

“Two people, both niggers went into the trees right over there.” The woman snitched. I looked towards her and she pointed right at me.

I ducked down. The man on the horse turned to look in my direction. He pointed out random people from the mob. “Go follow them.” He instructed.

I scrambled to get Mr. Morgan up. His tank was almost empty and pretty soon I would have to pull all the weight, and I was already pulling about 85% of it. 

We trudged over fallen tree limbs and rocks. I even dropped Mr. Morgan once or twice. He groaned so loud that I’m pretty sure he had given our location away, but I didn’t hear anything from the group following us, so I guess they didn’t hear it.

We got to a clearing in the trees and from my stance I could see an abandoned warehouse building. It was on the other side of the road. It would be a good place to hide out for a while.  If only we could get over there without being caught. 

I placed Mr. Morgan down on his back and plotted. I tucked my hair behind my ears and more wind rustled through the lifeless trees. The limbs reached down around me and then went back into place once the wind stopped. I looked up to the black sky. Round, dark clouds hung low in the sky. Rain was coming. 

Mr. Morgan started mumbling, “My shop, my house.” 

“Shh, I told him. His words filled my head and didn’t leave much room for my own thoughts. 

“My shop, Helle.” He repeated. 

“It’s gone, Mr. Morgan, but we gotta focus our efforts on getting over there.” I pointed to the abandoned building. 

He let out a bloodcurdling groan. His eyes glazed over and then closed. “Mr. Morgan?” I called out to him. I was met with silence. I kneeled down next to him. I repeated his name but he didn’t respond.

I propped him over my shoulder and walked down so that I was between two stores and I would have a straight shot towards the building. All I had to do was dart across the street. Should be easy right? 

I ran across the street with Mr. Morgan weighing my body down. I mustered all the strength from the recesses of my muscles to get across.

I got to the door, and placed him down. I looked around to see if anyone saw us. No one was there. The road was eerily silent except for the occasional gust of wind. I guess because all of the people were down by Mr. Morgan’s shop.

In the middle of the road lay a small, black frame. I remembered he had one just like it so I ran to get it and ran back. I turn the frame over in my hand to see a portrait of Mr. Morgan. He looked way younger than he does now. He was sitting down on chair and a little girl sat on top of him. The girl had all of Mr. Morgan’s features. A woman stood next to them. Her belly protruded underneath her apron. It looked like they were on a porch of a home. His home, probably. I guess that the woman was his wife while she was pregnant, before her death and the girl on his lap was his daughter Anita. 

I felt a pang of sadness. His wife must’ve died a painful death, but she was so happy in this photo. I shook my head clear of the negative thoughts. I pushed the frame into the top of my dress so that it was sitting flat against my tummy. 

I turn to the door. There was a copper, flat, and round lock on the door. It had the letters NC/NE written on it and I had no idea what it meant. I didn’t have the key to the lock so I used force to break down the door.

To my left a dark figure stepped out of the shadows of the building. “Well, Well, Well,” His husky drawl said. I turn my head to look at him. It was the horseman, just without his horse. “Look what the wind dragged in.” 

I backed against the door as he stepped towards me. His fist clenched tightly and connected with my cheek. My neck snapped back and I hit my head on the door.

The last thing I saw before the darkness took me was him standing over me with a sly smile and his silver tooth flashing in my eyes.