(eng) K. A. Applegate - Animorphs 47 by The Resistance

Author:The Resistance [Resistance, The]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14 - Isaiah Fitzhenry

My heart stopped.

Spears gasped for breath.

"Not a mile from here! A good-sized detachment of Forrest's cavalry. A hundred or more."

"Sound the alarm!" I ordered. "Get the men down here with everything we've got! Bayonets, muskets, revolvers . . . Spears, we're not ready for them."

Spears raced toward camp with a desperate look in his eye.

Jacob was running down the hill to rejoin the digging men. They were still building up the defensive position.

"Jacob!" I shouted above the bugle cry. "You've done your part. Get your fellows out of here!"

My men on picket duty were streaming from the woods now, hollering and whooping, running toward the earthworks like the devil was at their heels.

Jacob picked up his shovel.

"I'll be staying, Lieutenant."

He was a fool!

The men from camp raced from their tents and rushed down the hill. They pulled on coats and parkas as they came, and fastened bayonets to muskets.

"Take up your posts!" Raines cried, pulling a pistol from his belt. "Take aim, but do not fire!"

One by one, the men in blue fell into line behind the earthworks. Raines, Spears, Roth, O'Connell, McDonnell, Price . . .

We were pitifully few.

"Dear God," I breathed, drawing my own revolver.

A Rebel drum beat in the woods. General Forrest was upon us.

I watched the trees.

The tree trunks suddenly multiplied, doubling . . . tripling in number!

"Hold!" I cried, uncertain of the visual effect.

All at once, the illusion vanished and I knew what it was that I saw.

The forest was dense with brown horses, gray coated cavalrymen, and dully reflective carbines.

"Lieutenant." Raines turned to me. "They're forming up for a charge!"

Jacob and his men were still piling up dirt. Still digging.

"Get down, you fools!" I yelled. "You'll be shot!"

A few of the men lay down against the dirt. One took off up the hill toward camp.

But Jacob and the rest ignored my warning.

"Prepare to fire . . . ."

The woods erupted with whoops and shouts. Angry cries.

"Yeeeeeee! Hah! Yooooop! Yeeeeeeeeeeeha!"

The Rebel yell.

"I'll answer you with lead!" Spears shouted down his gun barrel.

The Rebs pulled out of the woods. Numbering only fifty or so, they screamed as loud as a regiment.

The galloping hooves grew louder and louder. The whoops and hollers tortured my ears.

The Rebels jumped the trunks of the slashed trees, leaped over branches until they were so near I could almost see their faces.

I could almost see the whites of their eyes . . . .

I stepped up to the line and aimed my revolver at a snarling blond cavalryman who raised his carbine at me.

The order was rumbling inside my mind . . . waiting to explode!

"FIRE!" I raged.

"FIRE!" boomed the Rebel commander.

The Union line pulled twenty-four triggers and riddled the air with lead.

The Rebels replied in kind.

"Ahh!"

Blood spattered my face and sleeve. Private Foster clutched his neck. Blood poured through his fingers. He slumped and fell to the cold ground.

"Ahhh!"

A Negro was struck in the chest! He hit the dirt and rolled, screaming. Still, Jacob didn't take cover. He raised his shovel like a weapon.

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