Red lifted his head. “Any time,” he said, crawling past Tim so he could follow Kautz.
Kautz crouched tensely by the door. The train droned across the trestle. Tim thought, Kautz must plan to jump when we get to the other side.
Suddenly Kautz reared back and sprang from the train, and Red crouched to follow him.
Tim reached out, grabbed Red’s blouse and pulled him back. “We’re over water and you can’t swim,” he yelled.
Above the rumble of the train they heard a shot from the caboose and a yell, and then another shot that echoed against the surface of the Congaree. Tim looked wildly toward the door. Our chance is gone for now, he thought. The rumble stopped as the train reached solid ground again and passed into a wooded area.
The prisoners began to stir. “Did someone get away?” asked a timid voice.
There was a buzz of talk as the train creaked to a stop and the guards climbed down from the cars. The old man was furious. “Did someone escape from this car?” he screamed, his figure silhouetted menacingly in the open doorway. There was silence.
The old man spoke to the guards who stood in the twilight along the tracks, “Guards ride inside the cars,” he called in a fury of frustration. “Fix your bayonets and use them at will. No guard sleeps until we reach Columbia. If another prisoner gets away, you all better start to say your prayers.”
The feet of the guards scraped along the gravel. They moved to the doors and hoisted themselves into the cars. A skinny boy and a middle-aged, heavy-set man climbed into Tim’s car and settled themselves against the left-hand door.
The old man went down the line and slid all the doors shut. He shouted to the guards, “If you see a crack of light, strike out with your bayonet. If any guard sleeps I’ll have him shot.”