Chapter XXV

XXV.

THE WHISPERS FOLLOWED them. They were the whispers of the dead. Of the lost. Of the forgotten. Of the stolen during the night. The whispers of slaves murdered by those who once owned them. Their blood had been spilled on this land, soaking into the fertile soil, enriching the crops that other men bartered and sold. Everything after came from the exploitation of their bodies.

This was what Mira saw. All she could see. The ways in which they’d been harmed. When she looked at the trees, she saw all the bodies hanged from them. Round and round the rope had been tied to the base of the tree.

The loop tightened across the neck as someone pulled them up. Fists clenched from their fury. Shouts and cheers as the men hanged. These are the men who would later cloak themselves in white, hide behind white as they crept through the dark. In gangs they came, breaking windows, stealing through doors to steal bodies, taking them away to disappear.

Always bodies.

So many had been taken. So many lost. The men and women who’d died on these fields, falling from the work that broke them, only to later be thrown in unmarked graves or sold one last time to the medical hospitals.

All that was left of them were these whispers, a cacophony of hushed voices building with every step Mira and Jesse took as they headed across the fields toward the river.

Far off in the distance, Mr. Tatum led a crowd of men. Wild-eyed in search of his justice, followed by the lynching mob in search of blood, all of them in search of Jesse.

“Are they still behind us?” Jesse asked Mira when they reached the tobacco fields. They crouched down low, attempting to hide in the stalks while they caught their breath. Mira stood up slowly.

“They are,” she said, as her head hovered over the tops of the stalks.

“Although they’re moving slower. I guess they figure they have the time.”

“We need to get to the river.”

“They’re too close. There’s not enough distance between us and them. I think they’ll catch up to us before we get there.”

“What should we do?”

“Let’s just wait here a little bit more. If we’re lucky maybe they’ll turn back around.”

They both collapsed in the stalks to wait. Mira sat on the ground, her legs splayed out in front of her. Her calves burned, and she massaged the muscles and tendons, hoping the pressure would relieve some of the ache.

She briefly stretched, pulling her arms in front of her body and turning her neck from side to side.

After a few minutes, Jesse grew restless and got up to look. “It’s dark,”

he said as he peered a little more above the tobacco stalks to get a better view. “They must have stopped for some reason, maybe figuring out what direction to take? Wait, no—I see Phillip. He’s gone into the woods.”

Movement in the brush. A glimpse of white. Mira straightened, her attention drawn to what lay before her. Jesse hadn’t noticed. It was the woman in white. This time she was close enough that Mira could see her face. Her dark hair fell past her shoulders. She was dressed in a white nightgown that flowed past her knees. The fabric was worn, sheer, but it hadn’t been dirtied from the woods. There was something familiar about her. Mira could see it in her eyes, the round shape of them, and in the contours of her face. She knew this woman, felt a kinship with her, and believed she would help them get to safety.

“You’re Marceline, aren’t you?” Mira asked the woman. She didn’t answer. “I know you are. I see my eyes in yours. Can you help us? There are men after us. We’re trapped.”

“I don’t know how we’re going to get to the river,” Jesse said, not hearing Mira. “Phillip seems to be heading our way—”

The woman retreated farther into the brush. She motioned for Mira to follow. Mira crawled toward her but hesitated, realizing she was about to leave without Jesse.

“Jesse—” Mira began, but the woman stopped her, quickly put a finger to her mouth to let Mira know to be quiet. “We need him to come too,”

Mira explained, but the woman shook her head.

Following the woman meant she would have to leave Jesse. She didn’t want to, but what if this was the way to save both of them? Fear told her to stay, but she had to know what the woman needed to show her. Jesse would understand, and she would find him again.

The woman grew impatient. Seeing Mira would not follow her, she left for the woods. This was Mira’s last chance; she had to go now or live with the regret of her inaction. Mira looked at Jesse one last time, waited until his back was turned, and slipped into the brush.