Her voice cracking, Jane said, "No, you don't dare. They're right outside."
"I'll run in the trees beside the road. Stop talking. Move." He shoved them, first Madeline, then Prudence, who was still breathing hard from the work; she was too stout to run far. Madeline signaled Esau to her side, pulled him against her skirt, and cradled his head with her hand. She could feel him trembling.
"Come on out, niggers. You stay in there, you're going to die."
Madeline recognized the voice of Gettys. Andy flung the globe at the side window, breaking it. The distraction drew a volley of fire on that side of the building. Andy used the cover of the noise to break the back window with his lawbook. He pushed Madeline again. "Hurry up!"
Jane hung behind, tears tracking down her cheeks. She knew what might happen if he ran for help. Her dark eyes begged him silently. His refused her. He gave her a swift kiss on her cheek and said his parting words:
"Don't forget I love you. Now go on."
Madeline climbed through the window. Then Prudence lifted Esau through the jagged opening, and Madeline lowered him to the ground. Andy jumped through the side window and ran into the dark, arms pumping.
A Klansman yelled, "There goes one." Horses whinnied. At least two went pounding in pursuit. The sound of three gunshots rolled back through the night, overlapping, reverberating. Jane had just jumped to the ground after Prudence. She gave one terrible short scream of grief and pain. She knew he was dead.
"The dynamite," someone shouted in front.
"Lit," someone else yelled. Something thumped inside and rolled on the floor. Above the glass sawtooths in the lower window frame, a snaky line of smoke rose.
Madeline pushed Prudence and dragged Esau. "Get away from the building. Run."
"Which way?" Prudence gasped.
"Straight ahead," Madeline said, pulling the boy. Straight ahead lay a heavy belt of water oaks with spiny yucca growing between. If they could break through that, they'd reach the marsh. The path across was solid but narrow; difficult to find and follow even in daylight. It would take luck and the bright moon for a successful escape.
"Hold hands," she said, groping and finding Prudence's pudgy fingers, cold and damp with her fear. With her other hand, Madeline hurried Esau into the darkness that rose like a wall behind the school.
Low-growing yuccas stabbed her legs. Spanish moss caressed her face like threatening hands. She saw nothing ahead, no light-glossed waters of the marsh. She'd forgotten how thick and deep the woods were.
Esau began to cry. Behind them, a fiery cavern opened in the night, spilling red light over them. They felt the concussion as the dynamite blew the school walls outward and the roof upward. Madeline saw half a desk sail up through the fiery glare as if it were the lightest of balloons. They ran on, hearing the triumphant yells and hoots of the Klansmen.
Madeline ran faster. A pain spread outward from the center of her breasts as she breathed with greater and greater difficulty. The school was gone. Andy was gone. Prudence was weeping. "I can't go any faster, I can't."
"If you don't we'll all die." With a surge of effort, Madeline ran through a patch of burrs that ripped her hem and scraped her ankles like tiny spurs. But they were through the trees — through and standing in shallow water with the moonlit salt marsh spread before them.
She pushed a fist into her breast, trying to stop the pain. She scanned the marsh, searching for the path over to Summerton. She'd taken it often, but always in daylight, and now, badly scared, she had trouble remembering where it was. The moon-dazzle on the water and the reed thickets confused her all the more.
"They're coming," Jane whispered. Madeline heard them.
"This way." She started across a muddy space, praying her memory wouldn't mislead her.
Two dismounted Klansmen dragged Andy's body from the dark to the firelight. The back of bis head was gone, and his shirt was soaked dark red from collar to waist. Des looked at the body, then snatched off his hood as he ran around the burning ruins of the school
"I saw them run into the trees." He waved in that direction with his old four-pound Walker Colt.
"I'll come with you," Gettys said from behind his hood. His soft white gentleman's hands looked incongruous clutching a shiny pump gun.
"You stay here and take charge of the others. Some of those nigger militia boys may show up. If you have to retreat, disband and scatter."
"Des" — Gettys whined it like a child denied a toy — "I've waited nearly as long as you to exterminate that mongrel woman. I've just as much right —"
Des jammed the old Walker's muzzle under Gettys's chin, twisting the fabric of his hood. "You have no rights. I'm in charge." He had to hurry; the white was flickering at the borders of his mind. He didn't want another spell to knock him out and cheat him of success. And there was Tillman's warning.
Gettys was stubborn. He started to protest again. Des flung his pistol hand back, then forward, bashing Gettys's hood so hard the storekeeper nearly fell over. Gettys saw the demented glaze of Des's eyes. With that pale trident in his carroty hair, he looked like some sort of devil.
"All right, Des. They're yours."
Madeline sensed the others faltering; so was she. They were in water six inches deep, struggling over a muddy bottom that sucked them down and slowed them. The moon's reflections on the water tricked the eye, and the reeds swaying and rattling in the wind only heightened the visual confusion. Somehow she'd led them off the narrow path. And Prudence was breaking down. She staggered along sobbing and muttering gibberish.
"Oh, Lord Jesus." That was Jane, looking behind them because of a sudden noise. Madeline stopped, holding Esau's hand tightly.
First she heard the splashing of the pursuer. He was making no effort to be quiet. Then she saw him, a great ungainly figure with immense hands. One held a gun.
"I'm coming for you niggers." The strong, clear voice rolled over the marsh. A frightened heron rose from the reeds, flapping away. "You're going to die tonight, all of you."
Prudence moaned. She dropped to her knees in the water, hands clasped, head down, mumbling a prayer.
"Will you get up?" Enraged, Madeline bent over the teacher. Only that saved her when Des fired two shots. Esau was crying again.
Madeline shook Prudence. "If you don't get up, he'll kill us. We've got to keep going."
He was coming again, all elbows and lifting knees, a strange terrible scarecrow dancing across the marsh, brandishing his gun. The three women and the boy started to run. Madeline's grief was almost beyond bearing; clumsily but completely, it was all ending tonight. The school, Andy, their own lives. Those ludicrous hooded men still had the power to destroy.
She found the path. She held to it for ten yards, then stumbled, twisting her ankle badly. Prudence lagged again, out of breath, giving up. Jane jerked Prudence's arm, exactly as if it were the halter of a reluctant mule. The night was peaceful except for the loud breathing of the fugitives and the steady splash of LaMotte. Coming on. Closing the distance.
He fired a third shot. Prudence flung her arms over her head as if in praise, then fell and sank under the water.
Jane crouched, hands rattling the reeds, probing the water. "I can't find her. I can't — wait, I've got her." Groaning, she pulled the teacher's head and shoulders out. Water cascaded from Prudence's nose and eyes and mouth. The eyes were without life. Madeline bit her knuckle; at the last, Prudence's hope had failed her.
Esau sniffled, striving not to cry. Madeline took his hand and started on. She refused to surrender herself to execution even though she knew they were finished. Jane's moonlit face showed that she knew it too. With Esau between them they walked on, their last act of doomed defiance.