Shadows in the Field

A Story by George Dowling

A night on a tobacco plantation in the modern day Confederate States of America.

by George Dowling

His flesh burned under his eye. The end of the whip dragged across the ground in front of him, slithering through the grass as Thomas raised his hand to deliver a second stinging blow. Anthony spun around, all orientation gone, and landed on his hands and knees, amidst the green flowers that had fallen from his basket. A third strike caught him across the back to add to the dozens of scar he already had there.

“Did I say it was time for break?” Thomas shouted as the whip bit him again on his lower back. Anthony crawled as fast as he could to try to get away from his overseer, but the whip was faster. “Stop it!” a little voice cried. Anthony turned to see his little brother Willy, barely more than a toddler, charging hopelessly against the powerful overseer. Thomas held up his other hand and backhanded the young boy. He stood there over the two slaves out of breath while the others in the field looked on. Thomas gave them a tight mouthed glare.

“Back to work!” he yelled as he stomped away. Anthony lie there on the ground writhing from the stings of the whip. Willy ran over to him, seemingly forgetting about being hit in the face.

“Anthony!” he screamed. Anthony sat up as his wounds began to burn slowly under the hot sun. He looked around at the buds from the tobacco plants and shook his head, turning to his brother. “You use bug killer, I will pull the flowers, ” he said as he found the pesticide sprayer he had been using to spray the plants.

“I’m sorry.” Willy said, using an accent similar to little Nicholas Wilson, the master’s son near him in age. When he grew older, Anthony reflected, he would be reminded to talk properly for a slave. Willy looked around for Thomas, who by now was in the field yelling at another slave for working too slowly. Thomas was black just like them, but master had recognized his hard work and named him Overseer. “Do not worry,” Anthony said as he inspected his own cuts, “he will give us few moments to get back to work.” He looked closely at Willy’s face and saw that Thomas’s hand left no mark.

“Do not tell mother,” Anthony warned. Willy nodded; he would not get Anthony in trouble a second time. After a few more moments, Anthony forced himself to his feet and said “let’s get back to work. Start spraying the plants.”

That night, Anthony rolled over on to his stomach, letting the air hit the perspiration on his back to cool him off and soothe his wound. He had cast aside his blanket. Even it touching him even made his body boil in the airless cabin where he and his family were quartered.

They had been in service to the Wilson family for several generations. In the corner of the cabin slept his mother Charlotte, the daughter of the slave who had been brought to the Wilson Plantation fifty years ago. Willy across from him, somehow curled up under the blanket in the summer heat. Several other slaves were quartered in as well, and their snores did nothing to help Anthony sleep.

He stared at the half crescent moon high in the sky, knowing that in a few short hours, he would have to arise and begin the harvest. Thomas would come screaming at the door for them to get up. The wounds of the whip would keep Anthony getting all the sleep he needed to do the work needed the next day. It was ok though, Anthony thought to himself, because the following day would be their day off and he would be allowed to catch up on sleep he missed this night. He forced his eyes closed. He held it for a time, but over and over, his eyes would force themselves open. He had tried counting as high as he could, tried remembering verses of the bible that were orally recited on sunday nights, but none would help. He kept having different thoughts.

For the past several weeks, while working in the field under the eye of Thomas and the other overseers, and teaching his brother Willy, he had seen shadows in the fields. Animals were not uncommon, but these were different. He knew every other slave on the field by face if not by name. There were about forty total on the plantation, as Master Wilson had once told a guest within earshot. Several were house servants, so he rarely saw them. The rest of the slaves, including Anthony, spent most of the early summer days topping and suckering the tobacco plants by hand, something Willy enjoyed greatly. He’ll learn soon enough, Anthony had thought. During the usual rounds, Anthony could swear he could see other black men, sometimes two or three at a time, standing near trees in the distant fields. They would watch the slaves for a time and then disappear in the middle of the day. He had told his mother what he had seen, and even considered informing Overseer Thomas or Lady Wilson. Charlotte had advised against it, “that’s our kind. We don’t hear nothing we don’t say nothing.” They had continued to make sporadic appearances, but soon, the shadows in the fields became an afterthought. The brief spark in his mind about what was watching from beyond the plantation fizzled out.

He could hear the sounds of the mules braying in their stables. He wondered why they hadn’t gotten the tractors that he had heard about on other plantations. They had been described by a borrowed slaves as ‘big metals that do the work of a hunded men.’ It would be faster, and Tom had even wondered aloud, but the impending promise of adding air conditioning to their rooms was enough to make every servant remember their blessings. All they needed was a good harvest and every night would be a welcome winter.

He rolled over again, annoyed by the moist fabric on his belly. He sat up, with his head falling forward slightly. He knew he was tired, but he couldn’t find the motivation to sleep. Anthony looked around to see his family and the several other slaves sleeping heavily. He quietly climbed to his feet and stood up, clenching his teeth at each creak the wood beneath his feet made. When standing erect, he stepped light footed towards the door, using his arms to distribute his weight to stay light. He grabbed the door handle and gave it a gentle twist. In trying to keep it silent, each mechanical tink it made sounded like hammers hitting anvils. The door finally opened and Anthony jumped out, landing gently on the dirt outside.

There were no rules about being awake or out at night, but if one’s quality of work diminished the next day, the slave would find themselves cherishing their quarters after dark. Anthony stared up into the bright sky and wondered what made those stars shine. He looked at his own hands and saw that even his black skin shined under their light. He knew the moon was a big rock far away in the sky, but the smaller ones were what fascinated him. Were they smaller rocks? And how did the big one glow? He sat down right outside his quarter house and continued to stare. There was a brighter star in the sky, that shined brighter than the rest, except for the moon in the sky. It was his favorite. The stars had changed through the years, but this one barely moved. He imagined that the other circled it, so it must be important. He stared at it until finally his eyelids began to gain some weight.

There was a click in the distance. It was more an echo, but it did not belong amongst the sounds of the night. Anthony turned in the direction where it had come from, but saw nothing moving. He stood up and inched his way towards fields, using the light of his beloved stars to see into the distance. A rustle came from the trees near his quarters. He turned and again saw nothing. Maybe I am just tired, he thought to himself. Sometimes in the field, he would begin hearing voices and seeing shadows, and feared he had been possessed, but his mother had told him it was just when they worked too long. He knew tired, and he knew exhaustion, and the tricks his mind could play, but this was different. This was real. He picked up a rock and aimlessly threw it to the trees. It hit nothing. Anthony sighed and looked up at the moon. It was beginning to fall from the sky, which meant he would have a hard day tomorrow. Thomas would ensure that.

He stepped carefully towards his cabin entrance. He stepped lightly so even the sound of walking on dirt would not wake his family. He had left the door open so he would be able to quietly make his way back to his bed. His foot stepped onto the doorway.

And then he was pulled back.

A strong arm had hooked around his throat and yanked him away from the cabin. It spun him around and put him on his knees. His heart was beating fast. A thousands dark thoughts fired through is brain about what was happening to him. Did I do something wrong? Is master punishing me? Tales of slaves taken in the night filled his head, but whoever had grabbed him simply held him on his knees by the top of his head. He was allowed by the hand to turn his head towards his quarters, and he saw his captor. It was a white man holding some large gun that fired many bullets. He wore face paint but his red facial hair glowing under the moonlight gave away his ethnicity. He was wearing the dark blue clothing along with a cap that shielded his eyes. He looked past the man with the gun to see more of them coming from the dark fields, and they had the big guns as well. They rushed into the slave quarters. Anthony didn’t hear the sound of gunshots, but only a couple of thuds. Oh no, are they killing them all? Why? And why am I being spared? Unless they mean me to watch… Anthony began to breath heavily and hyperventilate as tears built up in his eyes. At his first heave, the hand holding him tapped him gently.

“Easy, boy. None of your kin are being hurt.” he said in a loud whisper. Anthony looked to see the slaves being escorted out of their cabins by the blue dressed gunmen. They were escorted into a single clearing in front of all of the cabins, and Anthony was guided by his guard over to him. Anthony could see his mother and her flustered look and Willy wrapping his arms around her. Anthony crawled over to them.

“Mama, what’s happenin’?” Anthony asked. Charlotte pressed her eyes closed and her mouth curved in a way that Anthony couldn’t tell if it was sadness or smile.

“I don’t know, baby, I really don’t.” she said. Anthony looked around and saw that some of the gunmen were black. Black men carrying guns. And he remembered the men in the distance over the past several weeks. Among the men surrounding the slaves, there was one who seemed to stand taller among the rest. He had a strong build like the slaves, but his frame was much wider, and his shoulders broader, but his cap shielded his face under the darkness. The guard that had taken Anthony approached him.

“Orders, sir?” the man said.

“You know how we do. Phase 2. Lead them in, my friend, I’ll handle the business down here.” the leader said. By the sound of his voice, Anthony knew this man was black. There was no mistaking it. Did a black man just give an order to a white man? The guard saluted the leader and waved over to the other men. Most of them followed the guard to the plantation house, while the leader lit a cigar. He took a puff, with the light at the end of the cigar briefly allowing glimpses of his face.

“Brothers, sisters, I am here to inform you that the time of your freedom has come. You have broken your backs all of your lives for nothing but the pleasure of a bed and the pain of the whip.” he spoke. Anthony sat quietly next to his mother, who kept her eyes intently on the leader.

“Bring forth your overseers.” he commanded. There was muttering and whispers all around them, “who are these people?”, “maybe they work for master,” “they go if we give them nothing.” But within a moment or two, several of the slaves were pushed forward from their place, including Thomas. The moon shone on Thomas’s face, revealing a terrified look that Anthony had seen other slaves make in fear of the whip. The overseers were taken in by the few men the leader still had with him and forced to kneel facing the gathering of slaves. As they were knelt, there were the noises coming from the house of screams and shattering glass. Anthony closed his eyes when one of the screams had come from Lady Wilson. She a good lady, she never hurt me. The door at the plantation was slammed open so hard it nearly came off of its hinges. The guard came out dragging Lady Wilson with a gun to her head as his men came behind him pulling several other members of the household. The leader puffed silently on his cigar as the family was brought to the field and lined up with the overseers.

“We offer you all a choice tonight. What you see before you are two people; those of good and those of evil. We wish to free you and protect you. All we ask in return is you dedicate one year of the rest of your freed lives to us while we wage war against this evil country for the freedom of all mankind. You will be trained, you will be educated, and you will live. Those we have put in front of you are the enemies of mankind. Those who would treat you as property and beat you at a whim, and those who would seek to join their own captors to do their work for them for the promise of a bigger meal. Join the Sons of Lincoln and become the master of your own life.”

There was silence amongst the slaves, but the Wilson family, minus the husband away on business, were crying with increasing volume. When Lady Wilson let out a wail, one of the solders hit her in the back of the head with his rifle. Anthony himself felt words choked in his throat as he tried to comprehend exactly what was happening in front of him. They make promises, but they hurt, no different from Thomas. The gunmen circled around the gathering of slaves, and Anthony could see their eyes moving from one to the other.

“I will join.” one of the slaves said, standing up. Another stood and quietly whispered his allegiance to the gunmen.

“Good. You will step off to the side and when we have concluded here, you will be escorted by our men to a safe place. Will there be anyone else?”

Several more stood up. Anthony looked at his mother, hoping for some guidance. Charlotte had tears in her eyes and Willy was curled up in her lap. She looked at him but had no words. Anthony stared into her eyes, desperately looking for answers. All he could see was the years she had spent serving on the plantation. He resolved to keep his head down, unsure of what would happen if he joined these men, but then he had a thought. He stood up.

“Umm.”

The leader looked at him and tossed his cigar.

“Yes, boy?” he asked. Despite the gruffness of his response, the politeness still was a shock to Anthony.

“What will happen to those who cannot fight?”

“Any man who joins us will be allowed to take their families with them. The families will be relocated. They will not be left here.”

Anthony closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He looked down at his mother and little brother. She looked up at him again with the unclear eyes. If they stayed on the plantation, who knows where they could end up when the police came.

“I will join you sons of Lincoln.” Anthony said, shocked at his own words. The leader nodded. Anthony’s decision resonated with the rest of the slaves. Soon, every man was standing.

“We welcome you to the path to freedom men, but sacrifices must be made. What you see before you are masters and traitors. In order to be freed from chains, those chains must be broken so they may never hold another captive.”

He drew his gun.

“Boy, come here.” he said. Anthony looked around to be sure he was the one being called. He stepped around his brethren and approached the leader. Anthony was one of the taller, lankier slaves in the field, but this man towered over him. He put his hand on Anthony’s shoulder and said in a low voice, “my name is Joseph.”

“I am called Anthony.” he answered.

“Hold out your hand, brother.” Joseph said. Anthony did as he was commanded. He felt a cold weight press down into his hands. He didn’t have to feel it to know what it was.

“It is a crime against the Confederacy for a slave to hold a firearm. You now stand at the beginning of a new life.”

Anthony looked down to see a revolver in his hands. It was unbearably heavy. The moonlight made it glow white as his hand naturally found the way to hold it. He turned and led Anthony over to Lady Wilson and the rest of the family, including a grandfather and two teenage boys. They were whimpering, but several of the soldiers, most of whom were white, had their rifles aimed at them. Anthony could see the drops from their eyes falling and hitting the ground.

“These are the people that hurt you.” Joseph said. Anthony shook his head. Joseph tilted his head, “what do you mean?”

“Wilson treat us well. It’s the overseers who hurt us. Lady gave us big dinner for birthday of Christ.”

He wasn’t lying. Last christmas had been in the middle of the work week. Lady Wilson had a banquet brought out to the slaves and allowed them to finish their work midday to eat together. Since then, there had not been a single attempted escape from the plantation.

“So be it boy.” Joseph said as he walked past the Wilson family and over the group of overseers. “Name one.” He ordered.

The weight of the gun in Anthony’s hand spoke to him, and he knew what was happening now.

“T�"T�"Thomas.” Anthony croaked. Joseph turned to the overseers. “The one named Thomas, arise. If not, we will kill all of you.”

All that could be heard was the sound of crickets and whimpers.

“Last chance.” Joseph said. One of the overseers slowly climbed to his feet.

“I am Thomas.” he said, his voice wavering. Joseph stared at him then turned back to Anthony. We waved his hand for Anthony to approach.

“This man whip you?” Joseph said. Anthony nodded hesitantly. “Why?” he asked.

“Work too slow. Said master would be displeased.”

“Do you think it is right?”

“I don’t know. It make us work.” he said. Joseph put his hand on the boy. “He betrayed you every time he raised the whip, and now he must pay for his betrayal. Shoot him, boy.”

It felt like a punch in the gut. Just a little while ago, he was worrying about getting enough sleep for the harvest, and now he was holding that heavy gun in his hand, and he was being told to take a life. He raised his hand and aimed the gun as best he could, lining up the barrel with Tom standing in front of it, wide eyed and mouth opened.

“Pull the trigger.”

Anthony closed his eyes and looked away. He kept the gun pointed, although it shook greatly, with it’s metal parts clinging together in the vibration. Tom began to cry. Anthony tried to remember the pain, the times he had been beaten for a crime he didn’t remember committing, the times his mother had been beaten for working slowly while sick, and almost every time it was Thomas swinging the whip. But he was one of them. A slave no different than Anthony. He lowered the gun.

“I will not.” Anthony said, dropping the gun to the ground. Joseph stood staring at him. Thomas exhaled heavily and dropped to his knees. Anthony had begun shaking as well as his knees turned to jelly and his bowels began to loosen. Joseph nodded and walked over to him. He picked up the gun at Anthony’s feet. He inspected it before wiping it off with his shirt.

He raised the gun to Anthony’s head.

“You saying no, boy?”

Anthony nodded, his lip quivering. He put his eyes to he ground. Joseph smiled, then pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened. Joseph began chuckling as he lifted Anthony’s face towards his eyes.

“You defied a command. You are no true slave.” he said with a smile. Anthony looked down at the gun while Joseph adjusted something at the trigger. “Safety was on.” he said. He continued staring at the gun.

“In serving the Sons of Lincoln, every man may one day kill. We do not arm slaves and send them to die. We turn slaves to men, then we turn men to soldiers. Commands must be obeyed but we must remember what makes us men, and that is a sense of right and wrong that all men must choose for themselves. You stand up to me, knowing your life can end by my word. You are no man yet, but you will become one.”

He turned to his soldiers.

“Move our brothers and sisters. Bring the woman and children to the designated checkpoint A and the men to checkpoint B. I want us to be northbound by sunrise. Collins, Johnson, and Rodriguez, you stay with me.” he ordered. He turned back to Anthony.

“Welcome.” he said. Without a pause, he raised the gun and shot Thomas in the chest. He moved and shot the other overseers without hesitation or remorse. Anthony was grabbed firmly by the guard and escorted to the men the other soldiers were separating from the crowd. When all the men were grouped together, the guard held out his hand for their attention.

“Alright, boys, we need you to remain quiet while we move to the vans. Don’t fall behind.” he said. Anthony turned to see his mother carrying Willy with the rest of the slaves who were being rounded up by a smaller group of men in blue. Joseph was standing near the Wilson family with his finger still on the trigger. Charlotte stared over at her son as he back stepped to keep up with the other men. A tear came from her eye as he saw the sorrowful look that could only mean one thing; Goodbye.

Anthony turned and kept pace with the slaves through the field that were beyond the plantation. His bare feet had adapted the rough terrain from years of work, and he felt no pain as he stepped across unfamiliar rocks. On the side of the road he saw several vans with white letters. They had three letters on the side. He did not know what the letters were, as he had never learned to read, but he had seen them on the slave patrol vans driving past the plantation during the day. He and the rest of the slaves paused when they saw the vans. The guard turned back to them.

“How else we getting out of here? We gonna run the whole way?” he asked. Had Lady Wilson not been dragged at gunpoint, Anthony would not have believed them that this escape was genuine. Just as he thought about the Wilson family, he heard several gunshots in the distance. He could not count very high, but he knew how to count up to eight. When the last sound of the bullet faded into the night, the guard spoke up.

“You guys want to wait all night?”

Without another moment of hesitation, the slaves ran to the vans and began climbing into the open vans. Anthony followed the guard into the van he jumped in.

The guard sat near the front of the compartment and laid his rifle across his lap. Anthony sat down next to him. Seven other slaves piled into the van.

“Where are we going?” Anthony asked, scared of how this white man might react to being questioned. The guard closed his eyes and said, “checkpoint B, my friend. Checkpoint B.”

Author's Note

I promise I know how to indent...i just don't feel like reformatting it here.

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barleygirl

No need to indent these days. Just add a blank line in between paragraphs, which makes it much easier to read, especially with the very small font you are using. You may be too lazy to format for better reading, but this will be your loss -- people just won't finish reading or won't give you any feedback to your story. People on these kinds of websites often do not read the longer pieces. You have to make it as easy as possible for the reading, or people just won't do it. Then it's a waste of time to even post your writing here.

Now, about the writing itself. Your opening paragraph is one of the best I've read. It draws the reader in so nicely with vivid descriptions & poignant storyline. Your writing is obviously well done, with good sentence structure & word choices. I'm going to finish reading this as I have time today. But wanted to give you my first impressions before I forget. Thanks for understanding.