-------------------
Amy: The Fire
that Burns Continuous
The
coach back up the hill to Pithole fills me with dread. All day yesterday my mother and I walked
around the city of Franklin, trying to find a law enforcer or even a newspaper
who would take our story seriously. None
of them would take it on. They all had
an excuse. They said Pithole wasn’t
officially a town and therefore, couldn’t be governed by any of the laws we
assumed were present in any city. Or
they’d say that whoring is legal here (and in most other states). Or they’d even argue that kidnapping is
difficult to prove. When I tell them
that we have an eye witness, they say, yes, Steadman is a witness but he ain’t
seen you there but that one time. There
is no way to prove you been there the whole time and that you ain’t got there
on your free will. The newspapers said
they’d think about it, but suggested instead we go see a man named Crocus in
Pithole itself. They said he’s the
reporter at large in this region. So,
here we are, climbing the dusty hill again to Pithole. Late this morning my Pa got on a train
insisting that he was fine and he would not even think of taking my mother away
from me.
“You
two ladies are on a mission.” He says
with a glint in his eye. Then, he turned
and sat in a window so we could see him wave through the glass. I could see the pain he’s trying to hide wash
across his face as the train pulls away.
At least he is safe. I
think.
We
are rising up the dusty hill, probably only ten miles from the depot, when a
pair of horses gallop up next to the stage.
The horses skin is raw and singed and hairless, but saddled with heavy
riders nonetheless. I can hear their
snorts loud through the wooden wall of the coach. When I heard the hooves approaching fast I
knew something was wrong. Dust rose and
covered the coach in a choking cloud.
Then the gunshots rang through the air.
We flinched. A woman screamed. A
flock of birds scattered. I could hear
their wings flapping frantically to escape. When I looked around all I could see were
faces filled with fear. My Mother paled. All I remember is how I could not feel
anything. Not fear, not anger, just a
dark nothingness and an eerie clarity.
Then, his dirty face appeared in the coach.
“This
here is a robbery!” The man says real
loud. “Get out! Real slow,” the man
said, “or everyone dies.”
The
men don’t take long. They shove their way into the coach and push a burlap sack
in our faces. “We ain’t leaving until
this is full!” I see people hesitate and
something in me erupts.
I
grit my teeth and steady myself. We
don’t have much to give but when the man sticks his face in the coach I can
smell his greed seeping in. I know we
gotta find something to give him or what we’ll give him is our lives.
“Do
as he says!” I say louder than I knew I
could.
The
other people in the coach look at me like I’ve gone mad, but begin to take off
the little jewelry they have. I see a
few things drop into the bag. I take the
cross from around my neck. I kiss my
mother’s hand and then take off her wedding ring and place it in the bag. The man just looks at me with a crooked grin
on his face.
I
glare back at him and sit back.
Thinking, they got what they want, now we are safe. The blow takes me unexpected. When I hit the floor, my face is hot and I
can taste the iron of blood. I hear him
hit a couple other passengers. I hear
their sharp cries. Then I hear a swift
kick and see my mother wince. Another
kick, my mother winces again. I place my
body over my mother’s as the men just snicker and jump down from the coach with
the burlap sack full of our belongings.
Then,
there is a strange silence. After the
robbery, we expected the men to leave.
We expected them to take their loot and ride off. But as we anticipate the sound of hooves and
the cloud of dust rising around us, there is nothing. The men stayed. We could hear them whispering to one
another. Another shot in the air makes
us all jump. Then, his dirty face peaks
in again.
“While
don’t you ladies and gentleman climb on out and join us?” He smelled like whiskey and tobacco and sweat
and dirt. After we comply, the robbers
prod us with their guns until we are huddled in a circle and they are
surrounding us.
“Now, listen here! We gonna take ourselves a little walk,” says
the tall one who shot his gun in the air.
The
passengers around me erupted in sobs.
All except one, a tall, thin man who had kept himself under control
through the whole ordeal. I looped my
arm through my mothers and tried to comfort her. She was very shaken up and I could tell her
lip and eye hurt from where the robber had kicked her, but she forced a smile
back at me.
“Alright
passengers,” the tall man said, “it’s time to start walking.”
We
obediently fell in behind the tall man.
The fat one took the rear with his hands fingering his pistols at his
belt. The tall man marched us through
the low bushes down toward the creek.
Each step brought new cries from the other passengers. I think most thought we were walking to our
death. That the robbers were taking us
somewhere so they could shoot us all and not leave a big mess for anyone coming
up the road to Pithole. But, I still
felt nothing. I had no idea why fear hadn’t seized me, but it hadn’t. I kept my arm laced in my mothers and walked
on keeping my eye on the tall man and the passenger who was keeping it under
control. We walked at least half an hour
before the man stopped next to what looked like a large crack in the earth.
“This
here,” he said, “is the very hole this godforsaken town was named after. The first people who saw it thought it was a
gateway to hell itself. Guess you all gonna find out if it is, ain’t you?” He
laughed as he pushed the first passenger down into the crevice that belched
steam and the smell of rotten eggs. A
blood curdling scream rose from the earth.
The crack was at least seven feet wide.
It looked like someone had ripped two giant stones apart. Steam rose from the darkness of its
opening. The fat robber started pushing
the rest of us from behind. One by one
each passenger fell into the darkness.
With one swift kick the fat robber loosened my grip on my mother and
pushed her into the hole. I screamed and
dove in after her. I landed in a dark
wet place filled with sobbing screaming faces.
It was dark except for a small strip of light that shone above us. When I looked up to the light I could see we
were perhaps 15 feet below the earth and peering down at us from the crack of
light were the two robbers. They looked
small and harmless from this distance.
As if to counter this thought, the tall one shot his gun off in the
dark. The large crack echoed through the
hollow cavern.
“Ain’t
none of you better have any ideas about leaving before we ready for you to
leave, ya hear? My partner and I gonna wait here for a while and then we gonna
leave. You try and crawl out before dawn
tomorrow we shoot you. Understand?”
We
all nod uselessly in the dark. I’m
frantically searching the darkness for my mother and calling her name.
“Ma,” I say, “Where are you Ma?” Then her voice rises out of the dark. “Here Amy, I’m here!” and my I find her and
hold her tighter than I’ve held her in my life.
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