"What?" Michael asked patting his ears and the rumbling from the blacksmith shop across the dirt road was loud as usual.
"Shh! Stop talking," I whispered. "There it is again."
"John, there's nothing. I can't hear anything," Michael said again.
We turned back to the road and saw the soldier in the distance. He was moving slowly down the road between two houses.
"Quick, follow him!"
We quickly checked the houses for food and guns and ran down the road after the soldier. We ran for at least two blocks when he stopped not far from the first house.
"Are you ready?" the soldier whispered. He looked around for a moment, and then looked at both of us.
"I'll go first."
He pulled the lever on the side of the house and climbed over, landing on the ground with a loud thump. He walked around the house and stood on the porch. He leaned over to lift the latch and pushed on the door, causing it to fall inwards.
"Shit!" he said softly.
He stepped into the house followed by us both. We were in a kitchen with the empty cabinets in plain sight and the smell of gun powder and smoke still lingered. The soldier ran down the hall and I quickly followed. He stopped in front of another door, and threw it open.
"Shit, they're all dead," he said then stepped into the room. He leaned over the five Confederate corpses lying on the floor. "They were ambushed."
"What's going on?" Michael asked.
"They were ambushed, someone shot them all. Those men were some of the finest soldiers from the Confederacy, but there's no trace of the one that attacked them."
"Why are we here? There's nothing here anymore," I said.
"There's a letter, look at that," the soldier said pointing to a piece of paper on the bed. "I will read it now."
The note was on that same sheet of paper and said, "You are an exhausted, dirty, and thirsty Union soldier. If you can make it to the house in front of you, you will find a chance for freedom. You must not be caught here and must leave immediately. If you come, you will be safe. Tell your friend I will know if you're telling the truth."
"Where did you find this?" Michael asked.
"I found it on the floor in this room. Well, I found it in the next room over, this is a four-room house. The bed was in the other bedroom, but this sheet was underneath it, I think. Who knew that a letter like that would be in this day and age?" the soldier asked.
"What does it say?" I asked.
"That's really good writing. Follow me. I'm sure the Confederate general is still alive. You can ask him about it."
"Do you think we should go?" I asked.
"I'm not going across that bridge," he said.
"So, we should go?" I asked again.
"I don't know, wait," the soldier said then turned to me, giving me a look.
"Damn," he said answering his own question. "I'll give it a shot. I'll go up on the bridge. You two stay behind me."
"I don't know."
"Do you want those answers?"
"Yes."
"Then come with me. We'll break into that house and kill whoever's there. Are you in?"
"I'm in."
"I don't want to die just yet."
We crossed the bridge into Confederate territory. I was a little nervous about it. My mission in the Union was to defeat the enemy, which was the Confederates, but we were the enemy now. It's funny to be a Union soldier, trying to beat the Confederacy with the help of Confederate soldiers to get an answer the man who defeated you to your question.
