Escape Tunnel

Escape Tunnel
Bellafont Plantation
June 1842
Lenora had been gone five days and the carriage wandered slowly along the road. The storm from the previous day had washed out much of the side of the gravel and the driver was taking caution as he moved slowly. Lenora pushed back the thin curtain that hung over the window.
“At least it’s not raining now,” she said aloud to no one in particular. Though across from her were two women. The first was young, at least the same age as Lenora with matching beauty. The second was none other than the sorcière. Her clothing was old in style, but her posture provided an air of strength and propriety that others could not conjure.
“Mmm.” the sorcière responded. Her mind seemed to be dwelling on something else. The other woman, Lenora did not know very well and had only seen her once before this meeting. She, like Lenora, was a protege to sorcière.
“We are not far,” Lenora went on. “You are welcome to stay if you’d like.”
Sorcière smiled at Lenora. Her teeth were white and straight. Her eyes always appeared to open up a coy thought at whomever she looked at. “I’m afraid we must move on today. I appreciate the offer though.” It was then that sorcière’s back arched forward. She paused for a moment. And then her face went expressionless.
“Sorcière?” Lenora leaned forward. She placed a hand on her mentor’s knee. The woman didn’t respond. “Sorcière?”
A moment later the trance was broken, but pain on the woman’s face grew. “We must move faster. Driver!” Sorcière called out, taking a parasol that rested between her legs she tapped on the wooden wall behind her. “Driver. Move quickly. We are in a hurry.” Then she turned to Lenora. “You have a daughter?”
Lenora laughed. “Not quite.”
“Then a child. A child in your care?”
It didn’t take even a moment for Lenora to feel the sinking in her heart. “Emily…” The words fell from her lips as would a lingering kiss that did not want to die. “What has happened to Emily?”
Neither of the women, Lenora nor Isabel - if Lenora recalled her name well enough - understood how or why the sudden demeanor changed in the sorcière. But from what they’d both witnessed these few days they knew better than to question. They were sworn to their secrecy. They would reveal nothing. And for Lenora that even meant she would say nothing to Bridgette.
The coach suddenly lunged forward as the horses were prodded. Lenora could see the plantation house miles off. It’s widow’s peak was far in the distance on a road that she knew wound in and out along the swampy edge. The sun would be falling from noon by the time they made it. And whatever was wrong she hoped they arrived in time.

The room where Emily was chained to the floor was cold and dank. There were others in the basement. But they were all on the other side of her door. They were chained to walls that Emily had never been allowed to see. Though she had heard the nightly screams as insubordinate slaves were put to the whip.
The slab table Emily lay on was stone and cool. Her clothing had been removed and was piled in a deliberate and discarded way in the corner of the small cell.
“I asked you. Did you like what you saw?” Jackson’s voice was crude and sharp. Despite the vehement tone he carried with him a smile and brandished a kindly demeanor. It’s the way he looked at pretty women. That was the thought that struck Emily. And she didn’t like it at all.
Emily didn’t respond. As her two eldest sisters would, Emily moved her head to the side, her eyes away from Jackson.
“So, that’s how it’s gonna be, eh sister?”
“I’m not your sister.” Emily was defiant.
“Well, now, everyone ‘round here looks at you and Lenora and Bridgette as my sisters. So I say that makes us siblings. Don’t you?”
“No.”
The whip slapped against the stone, inches from Emily’s ankle. “Fucking damnit. You’re just as impertinent. All three of you.”
Emily didn’t flinch at the sound or the vibration of the whip on stone that she could feel against the ball of her ankle. “You going to whip me, Jackson?”
He walked around the stone table to where she could see him. “That what you think of me? A man who’d whip a child? A man who’d whip his own sister? You’re practically my child.” He tossed the rope across the room. “That was just to make sure you pay attention. Now, I’m getting tired of you always snooping about. There things goin’ on around here and I can’t have you running off and telling your sisters.”
“You’re so dumb. You think you can do anything from stopping me? You think tying me up and threatening me will stop me? You can whip me for all I care. You want me to stop. You’ll need to kill me.”
Jackson let out a howl of laughter. “You damn girl.” Then he leaned over and placed his lips to her ear. “You so smart. You already got it all figured out.” Jackson tossed the whip off to the side letting it bounce off two walls before it collapsed silently on Emily’s balled-up clothing. He then left the cell.
Iy was quiet for all of seconds when Emily heard Jackson. “You make sure it looks like she’d run off and gotten in trouble. You hear?”
“Oui, Monsieur.”
Emily knew the voice as one of Jackson’s henchmen. Jackson had paid his way from Paris to New Orleans and then to Arcadia. His name was Frances, though everyone just called him Frank. He was rarely soken of, and when he was spoken too Jackson was generally hidden behind the stables, a large tree, or far off in one of the fields.
“Bonjour, Emily.” Frank stepped into the cell at the moment that she heard Jackson ascend the steps. “It looks like you and I will be spending some time together.” Frank pulled a blade from his waist and cut the straps binding Emily’s hands. Then he cut the straps at her feet. “Put your clothes back on.”
For a moment Emily considered defying the man who was nearly twice as tall as she. His face looked down on her scarred from knife fights he was known to find in New Orleans. She couldn’t bear the thought of this man looking at her naked. So, she conceded.
Once dressed, Frank took her bu the arm. Instead of going up the stairs Frank pulled her around to the backside of the root cellar. Emily could see small heaps laying on the ground, likely slaves. They walked passed them. Frank opened a door. The walls were planks of wood with gaps to the outside providing the only source of light. Partway through Frank found a used torch on the wall and relit it. They continued as the wooden planks were replaced with stone walls.
Emily couldn’t count out how far they’d walked, but by the time Frank stopped she knew they’d gone gone far enough for her bare feet to ache. And she also knew they’d gone way beyond the premises of the Bellafont main house. They’d come to a set of stone stairs and Frank held Emily’s wrist tight as the two of them ascended. The stairs wound counter-clockwise at a snails pace upward.
“You goin’ get wet.” Frank said. He opened a wooden door half as tall as Frank. Then he put the torch out and placed it in a holder. From their the two crawled forward, following the light at the end of the tunnel.
“What is this place?”
“Guess it don’t matter if you know or not. This is how we move about Bellafont if we need to be quick about it. Or need to move things in secret.”
Emily reached the light first and as she did Frank took her by the ankle so she couldn’t run off.
“You need to lay on your back and roll out. We ain’t finished this part yet.”
Emily did as she was told. Frank let go of her only long enough for him to roll out and collapse on top of Emily.
When Frank crawled off Emily got her first look at the surrounding area. They were laying in a small thicket though the water from the mud they landed in was already soaking her clothing. The swamp came within ten feet of where Emily was crawling to her feet. trees grew up through the water and off to her side was a small flat boat and paddle.
“Get on the boat.” Frank nodded toward the small boat. The flooring of the boat was flat and there was a two inch ledge along the four sides. Otherwise there wasn’t anything discernable about it.
Emily climbed on and sat down. Frank pushed the two of them off.
“Where are we going?” Emily demanded, trying her best to sound defiant, though Frank just ignored her as he shoved off the mud and deeper into the swamp with a long paddle.
“Not far,” was his only reply. And he was right. The boat had only gone fifty feet before Frank noticed movement to his right. He slammed the paddle into the water to catch the mud and slow down their pace into a standstill.
“C’mere. I want to show you something.”
Emily looked at Frank and for the first time a real sense of uncertainty thrust itself into her heart. It raced and Emily was slow to stand. “What are you intending to do with me? You can’t hide me out here. You know my sisters will find me don’t you?”
In a thick french accent Frank’s voice suddenly seethed in her direction. “Oh, I know. I count on them finding you.” His large calloused hand grabbed Emily and through her forward into the murky waters.
A torrent of water uplifted from the shallow water. The gator’s mouth was open. It’s teeth duller than Emily had expected. And as the creature grabbed her, taking an arm and half of her chest, that was the thought that persisted in her mind. She was dragged to the muddy bottom and twisted three times until the last of the oxygen in her lungs remained. By the time the gator was done, Emily was only a limp mass.
Frank waited until the vicious attack was over. He tipped his head toward the gator and remains of Emily. “Night, Chere,” was all he said before he pushed the boat forward on the edge of the paddle.