WandaCKeesey

HAUNTED EYES
(short story) By Wanda C. Keesey

Black as pitch, they stared wide open and unblinking. Their icy glare bore through me, leaving an unexplained chill.

In the twelve years I’ve been teaching I’ve never seen a child with eyes like Jerry Eshelman’s. Haunted is the only way to describe them.

He was there in the first seat, center row on the first day of summer school and every day after for over four weeks. He looked small and venerable in the too large, blue, cotton shirt and dark pants held up by a pair of dirty suspenders. His face was pale, his narrow nose bordered by sunken cheeks made his wide staring eyes stand out in stark contrast.

“Hi, I’m Ms. Finch. What’s your name?” I asked as I piled my books and notes on my desk. I walked to the green slate to write the first series of assignments for the class.

“Jerry Eshelman,” he whispered in a raspy voice.

I finished the list and returned the yellow chalk to the tray, brushing my hands free of dust. “Are you new in town, Jerry? Will you be coming to Meade Manor High next year?”

Students arriving in couples and small groups started to fill the empty seats. Jerry didn’t seem to notice them. He didn’t answer my questions either.

He must be a transfer, I thought, catching up to the class before next semester. I added his name to the roll making a mental note to check at the office. One thing was for certain, he wasn’t here because he wanted to be. No tenth graders I knew cared enough about the past to voluntarily spend six weeks of summer vacation sitting in an American History class.

He never smiled. When I think back to those weeks, I don’t remember that Jerry ever showed any emotion at all. When called on, he gave short, correct answers offering nothing more.

At the end of the each day’s class, he would be gone before I could ask him anything about his family.

His parents hadn’t registered him with the school office. What’s the harm, I thought, if one boy gets a little education at the school’s expense? He won’t break the bank.

It was the middle of the fifth week when it happened. Our lesson was on the Civil War, the battle of Gettysburg to be exact. Because of our close proximity to the actual battlefield, the class showed a high degree of interest.

I planned a bit of play-acting. Each student tried to imagine they were the people on nametags I passed out, Confederate and Union soldiers, Generals Meade and Lee, and citizens living in town. I tried to get a mix. Everyone was involved and having a good time.

"The fighting went on for three days. We’ll start with the day before the battle began. Can anyone tell me where they were that day, June 30, 1863?"

"I’m not a Union soldier. I’m a spy for the South." Jerry’s voice was quiet, but he spoke with confidence.

I could see the class, one by one, look toward the front of the class. Jerry hadn’t shown much interest in the project until now. I was pleased.

"Do you have reason to believe there were spies at Gettysburg?" I asked.

"Yeah, Lee needed spies."

"You're right. Both sides had spies during the War. Most were just regular citizens, but some were professional. Tell the class how you would feel if you were a spy." I didn’t want to lose the opportunity to involve this strange boy in learning.

Jerry’s burning cold eyes settled on some spot behind me. He was so intent, I turned a little to assure myself there was no one there. The class sat rapt with curiosity.

"Lost. Alone," he began. "The people I love are fighting against each other. My cousin Andrew went to join the Army in Pennsylvania two years ago. We heard he was killed at Manassas. My brothers, James and Garret joined the Army back home, they’re in General Pickett’s division. . .they was heading North last we heard.

“After James and Garret left for the war, Ma and my sisters made socks and rolled bandages for the soldiers. Pa lost the horse and cows to the first wave of troops that passed through. We couldn’t keep a crop in the fields. Some army or another was always burning it or stomping it down. Pa and me near worked ourselves to death trying.

“There wasn’t nothing I could do. Ma and Pa said I was too young to fight being only fourteen. I hunted and fished to help feed us. Ma and the girls took care of the few chickens and a small vegetable garden. I had to do more.

"Ma cried terrible when I talked of taking the squirrel gun and following the army. She’d given two sons, she said, and wasn’t letting her youngest go too. I had to swear not to join the fighting. ‘Twas the only thing that would calm her.

“One day that next spring, in ‘62, we heard Pickett was going to pass nearby. I told Ma I was gonna take some socks and food to my brothers, but it would mean being away for awhile. That was how I left home. I didn’t dare take the squirrel gun or she would know. When I took the packages to James and Garret, I left some information with a Major about things I seen on my way cross-country. That was the start of it. Don’t need a gun to see and talk about what you saw."

Jerry stopped for a few seconds. His eyes didn't flinch. The other students sat in silence.

"It's not easy. You can’t be noticed by nobody, not even your own side, except when you have something to report, then I go direct to any officer that will hear me out. It's lonely and there's no one to tell you that you done right. You can't tell your family where you are, only that you're alive. You never have enough to eat, lucky to have a place to sleep and except for now and again when I would come across a stray horse, I traveled on foot."

"How did you do it?" I whispered, but everyone heard me.

“I’d get ahead of the Union army and go into the next town where they’re headed. I’m just a boy playing stickball or sweeping out the general store. They talked like they was alone. It’s not hard to get the information, getting it back to the Army is the hard part.”

“Why were you a spy?” I asked.

"Why? I had to do something didn’t I? They wouldn’t let me fight, but I got good ears, a sound memory and strong legs."

“What about now, Jerry? Where are you? What are you doing?” I watched as those dark eyes focused on my face.

“Don’t you know?” He turned, his eyes searching the quiet class. “I knew the Yanks was moving to cut off Lee’s drive north, but they was going so fast and so much was happening. . .I couldn’t get back in time to tell anyone.

“I stopped to rest at an inn south of Gettysburg on the Taneytown Road. I came across some Yank soldiers that was lagging behind the main army. One of them realized that he had seen me before, at Harper’s Ferry. That started the whole bunch of them thinking as to how I looked familiar. I tried to back out through the storage room, but they seen what I was doing and caught me.

“One of their number wanted to take me with them to see their general. Most of the others was for hanging me on the spot. They talked and argued over bottles of whiskey and tankards of ale into the night. I was hog tied and gagged in a corner.

“Being tired, I guess I fell asleep cause I woke with a rope around my neck. I made my peace with God and waited for them to finish me.”

My eyes never left Jerry’s face. His eyes were dark bottomless orbs. I could hear sharp intakes of breath and quiet groans scattered through the class.

“But they didn’t. They decided to take me north for a trial. The rope was to scare me. And it did that, sure enough.

“We started out as soon as the sun was up. It was two days since I had any solid food. They gave me some hardtack and cherries, so as they wouldn’t have to carry me, they said. It was a long walk and they moved as fast as they could. I tried to hold them back, but they knew what I was doing and promised to finish the hanging if I didn’t keep up. I supposed that I had a chance of talking my way out of being killed so I wanted to get to the General alive, if I didn’t find a way to escape first that is.

“We was almost there. I could see the smoke ahead. Cannon fire made the ground shake minutes after we heard the thunder. I ain’t never seen a battle up close. Thinking about it made me go cold all over with fright, but I was excited too. If I could get away, I might be able to find me a gun and kill some Yanks.

“The ropes round my wrists were wet with blood where they rubbed me raw. It didn’t take much to stretch them and work them off. The soldiers were busy getting their guns ready for firing and didn’t notice when I fell back and slipped into the field along side the road. I was out of sight when I hear them shouting. I knowed they would be going north and not bothering no more with me. So I just ran as fast as I could. I looked every which way for the grey coats.”

Jerry’s fingers gripped the front of the desk. I knelt beside him. I was worried that he was too involved in this game of pretend. Using a tissue I brushed the tears from his cheeks. “It’s alright, Jerry. You can stop now. You did an excellent job. We all know how hard it was to be a spy.”

Those dark eyes turned to me. I gasped. Jerry’s face had changed. He still had the same features, but the narrow brows were furrowed over deep-seated black eyes wide with fright, his nostrils flared with each quick breath and the thin lips pressed together in anger. His soiled face was burnt red on top of brown from days in the sun. He looked three times his fourteen years.

“You don’t know nothing. Spies are shot or hanged. Don’t matter what side you was spying for, that’s what’s waiting for you if you get caught. And I got caught.”

“But you got away. You were able to find your own lines and found safety in your own numbers. I’m sure you went home to your mother.” What had my little project done to this boy? All I could think of was returning some sanity to this lesson.

“Yeah, I found Lee’s army. But they seen me coming too, and they was all set for a surprise attack. I guess they thought I was it. I got two mini balls in me, one in my leg and one in my chest. They didn’t hurt much. I guess cause I didn’t live long enough to give them the chance. I was dead in no time.”

It took me a few minutes to pull myself together. I held Jerry’s cold hands, trying not to touch the raw open skin at his wrists. This was my fault. It’s my fault that this boy is out of his mind.

“Jerry, you’re not dead. You’re here at Meade Manor High, in Gettysburg with your friends, and with me. We are having a lesson on the Civil War. You’re not in the War, it’s just a lesson.”

I could hear quiet whispers around me the class started to stir.

Pulling his hands free, Jerry stood and faced the students. “It’s all right. . .. That I’m dead I mean. I didn’t much like the way of it, although it was better than hanging. It was going to happen some day. I only regret that my Ma lost all her boys.

“I come here cause I wanted to come to school again. I always liked school.” Turning he lifted his head to look at me. “I got to go now, Ma’am, but I want to thank you for being a friend.”

We watched the lean young man pull himself up straight and walk to the door. His shirt and pants were covered with dust. One of the suspender straps had come loose in the back. When he turned with a final nod we all saw that the left pants leg was torn, and stiff with something that had dried there long ago. The shirt too, had a hole in it, high on the left side, and was caked with dried blood.