Read War for Free Online Page A

grabbed the plans off the table.
    “Sergeant Edmonds,” Jake said. “I can explain — ”
    BLAAAAM!
    They both turned.
    Now Corporal Rademacher was storming inside, his pistol smoking.
    Only Platt’s legs were visible. Flat on the ground. Platt was howling with pain.
    Rademacher shot him.
    “You trigger-happy fool!” Edmonds said.
    Rademacher pointed his pistol at Jake. “He let that schoolboy Rebel in here. And I aim not to let him out!”
    No.
    Jake backed away. “I’m not a spy! I can help you!”
    “RADEMACHER!”
    A deep voice. A new one.
    Rademacher froze. He lowered his gun, cursing under his breath.
    Jake recognized the man who now came through the tent flap. He’d seen the man’s cracked, faded photo in books — the droopy, walruslike white mustache, the fierce blue eyes and deep-lined skin, the broad shoulders and ample belly.
    Weymouth.
    “Colonel, our men have identified this boy as the spy,” Edmonds said. “Overmyer saw him aiding the Rebels, looting Samuelson’s body while he was still alive.”
    Jake felt impaled by Weymouth’s cold, steely eyes.
    “I — I was at gunpoint!” Jake pleaded.” They ordered me to take the weapons. Then they wanted me to shout, so the rest of the guys would come into the trap. That was when Overmyer showed up. That’s what he saw.”
    “Liar!” Rademacher shouted.
    Colonel Weymouth came face-to-face with Jake. “ Would you have shouted if Overmyer hadn’t come?”
    “Well — I — “
    Yes.
    I would have.
    Probably.
    “My life was in danger,” Jake said softly.
    Edmonds was fuming. “So you’d risk the lives of the other men.”
    “Treacherous pond scum — ” Rademacher lunged forward.
    Colonel Weymouth turned his head, and Rademacher stopped in his tracks.
    “Gentlemen, we have bigger concerns right now,” Weymouth said. “We will keep the young man in the compound jail until we have rid the countryside of our Southern nemesis. Then, if we are still alive, we will conduct a fair trial — ”
    “Jail?” Jake blurted out. Impossible. Not during a great battle. “What am I going to do there? I won’t be able to fight!”
    “And Corporal Rademacher here will be your guard,” Weymouth went on. “Judging from the way he treated Mr. Platt, he’s having a bit of trouble discerning who the enemy is — so we will keep him away from battle.”
    Rademacher’s face fell. “But — but sir — ”
    Colonel Weymouth ignored him and addressed Jake. “You will, of course, be able to present your case —eyewitnesses and so forth.”
    “I don’t have any eyewitnesses!” Jake replied.
    “Just tell us what you know about the Rebels,” Edmonds snapped.
    “I DON’T KNOW ANYTHING!”
    “A shame.” Colonel Weymouth raised a heavy white eyebrow. “That kind of statement tends not to work well in a court-martial proceeding.”
    Court-martial.
    Trial by military officers.
    Weymouth, Rademacher, and Edmonds.
    I don’t stand a chance.
    “But what if I lose?” Jake asked. “Doesn’t someone have to, like, shoot me?”
    “No, no, no.” Rademacher smirked. “Not someone. A firing squad.”

Jail?
    Firing squad.
    Excuse me. Contact reestablished. We got him back.
    And?
    He told us to mind our own business.

11
    “S TRING ’IM UP, THAT’S what they’re gonna do — even though he’s a boy. Just to make an example.”
    BOOOM!
    “Shame, ain’t it, Clarence? They blame the weakest ones. The place is crawlin’ with real moles, but they’ll never get caught.”
    Crrrack! Crrrack! Crrrack! Crrrack!
    Jake jumped at the shots.
    That’ll be me.
    Before the firing squad.
    Blindfolded.
    Hands tied.
    One last request, kid. What’ll it be?
    What would it be? To see Mom?
    This wasn’t fun.
    Seeing Johnson die. Watching Samuelson bleed from a wound. Hearing Platt scream from a point-blank shot. Looking up the barrel of a loaded musket.
    Special effects?
    No. It’s too real. Death can’t be faked like that. Another person’s pain can’t feel so