by Brenna Erickson

Created on: April 16, 2008   Last Updated: August 13, 2008

Pouring rain hit the ground so hard it bounced off the unbeaten path directly back on to their faces. The large oak trees provided no cover from the wind and their swirling branches only made travel more difficult. The six of them had been running for three miles now, and the dogs were getting closer. They could almost feel the teeth reaching for their ankles. Barks and snarls made their ears ring. The moon was their only source of light; yet during most times the rain clouds blocked it from sight. It was almost certain someone would come looking for the runaways, however; none anticipated so soon. A mistake must have been made, but how and when? They were supposed to reach the first station safe and sound.

Rachael and her husband, Thomas, hadn't been doing this for long, but they knew the tricks. Everything had been planned perfectly; the children would be asleep, safe and sound, by midnight. How often they had talked this over, Rachael couldn't remember, but now a thousand times seemed too little. Nothing had gone as planned, and Rachael felt like throwing up. She thought of her daughter safe at home; no doubt, scared by the storm herself. She should have thought this over one more time. What if something terrible happened? The knot in her stomach grew tighter as each foot repeatedly hit the wet, slippery ground.

Men began shouting; the voices were getting closer. Rachael didn't know how much longer her feet could carry her. She looked down at the child whose hand she was holding. She had literally dragged the young black girl for the past two miles; her little bare feet rarely hit the ground as Rachael tried lifting her over every obstacle. They were almost there. Rachael vaguely recognized the area in the midst of the pouring rain. The thunder and lightning made the situation even more distressing. This was all beginning to feel like a nightmare.
The six of them ran single file down the broken path. The father of the slave family stumbled over what seemed to be an uprooted tree. He fell. Rachael's husband stopped and turned back to help him up. Thomas tried lifting the man to his feet, but his one foot gave way immediately. He had broken his ankle.

"Keep runnin'!" The man told Thomas. "I be fine! Save ma chillums, please, save my chilluns'." The urgency in the man's eyes was enough for Thomas to obey his request. Rachael looked frantically at her husband's face. Agony and despair was written boldly across it. They didn't know what to do. The men were

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