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Authors: John Moss

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BOOK: The Girl in a Coma
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Twenty-four

Lizzie

After Lizzie and her two companions passed through the gates, they were surrounded by a hysterical throng of soldiers and natives. Everyone was talking about the tragic news from Queenston Heights. The Americans had crossed over the river and General Brock had been slain in the midst of a fierce battle. His valiant aide, Colonel Macdonell, was also dead. The British forces were re-grouping, reinforced by Iroquois warriors under the command of John Norton and John Brant from the Grand River valley.

Lizzie felt grief-stricken for the beloved General Brock. It was hard to believe that the man she had spoken to so vigorously only the day before was now dead. It was hard to believe Macdonell was dead and her Aunt Rebecca was gone.

Lizzie was distressed to hear the Iroquois from the Six Nations country surrounding the Grand River Purchase were in the thick of the fighting. She knew the native leader, John Brant, very well. He had often been a guest in her stepfather's house. Christian Erb, like Christian Haun and the other Mennonite settlers, had bought their land from a man who owed a great deal of money to Brant's father and the Iroquois people. She had never met Norton but he was a revered leader as well and a fearsome fighter. Like the Brants, he was Mohawk, one of the Iroquois Six Nations to have fled northern New York after the American Revolution so they could remain under British rule.

The Iroquois were ferocious supporters of the Crown and still feared the Americans as much as when they had fought against Washington. To be ruled by King George was an unpleasant restriction. The prospect of having their lands taken away by President Madison was far more ominous. Manifest Destiny would consume them.

Only a week before, the native commander, Tecumseh, had been killed by an American sharpshooter after the fall of Detroit. His Shawnee Confederacy, gathered from tribes in the Ohio and Mississippi valleys, was in disarray after a shameful British retreat.

Lizzie worried about her Six Nations friends.

The war was personal now. The fighting was still a long way from the Grand River Purchase but the presence of Grand River natives at the battlefront made the conflict loom close on the horizon. It was sorrow, not fear, that made the horrors so real.

She was not frightened. She was angry. War seemed an abomination. How could people be that savage? It was an offence against God.

She said as much to Cameron as she dismounted.

“Well, God is apparently on many sides, Miss Erb. Your God is offended. The Mennonite God wants peace. The British God wants the king to rule. The Americans believe God wants their country to grow large and be prosperous.”

“And what about your God, Mr. Cameron?”

“He wants to be left out of the quarrels.”

“Then you are a Mennonite at heart.”

“No, Ma'am, I am not.”

There was much scurrying around them, not only soldiers and natives but women and children. The fort was preparing for the worst. If Queenston fell, then the Americans would advance south on Fort Erie.

Draft horses were being harnessed to farm wagons. The wagons were being loaded with cannons and ammunition. After delivering their deadly load at Queenston, they would be used to carry the wounded away from the battles downriver.

“Come,” said Lizzie. “We must find the officer in charge.”

“To have us arrested?” asked Beazley. “I believe we should forget about that.”

Before she could respond, the villainous Captain Blaine stepped out through a door in the thick stone walls and into the open. He saw her; he saw Beazley and Cameron.

“My God, man,” he said to Beazley “I told you what to do with her, didn't I?”

Beazley looked to Cameron.

The captain appeared as if he were about to strike Beasley across the face. Cameron stepped forward and grasped the captain's upraised arm. Captain Blaine looked stunned.

“I'll have you court-martialed for this,” the captain exclaimed.

“Not before you answer for the murder of John Whittington,” said Lizzie, stepping up and standing face to face with the man who had instructed his soldiers to kill her.

“Who in damnation do you think you are?”


Your
damnation, Captain Blaine. I intend to see you hanged.”

“Or shot,” said Beazley, emboldened by Lizzie's fervor.

A small crowd had gathered, amazed that a young woman was challenging one of their officers. They were also astonished to see the officer being restrained by a common foot soldier.

No one came to Captain Blaine's assistance. He was a cruel and unpopular man.

Cameron pushed his captive through to the Commanding Officer's offices and forced him into a chair.

“We're rather busy fighting a war,” said the officer in charge. “I assume there's an explanation for this.”

“There is,” Lizzie said. She stepped forward and laid her bulging saddlebag on his desk. “This is from the people of the Grand River Purchase. There is a lot of money here. It is to support the war effort, to pay for the militia. I promised it to General Brock, but I'm told he is recently dead.”

“He died a hero, Miss. I'll sign for your treasure, and thank you. I will see it gets to the right places. And what about my captain, Mr. Blaine? You seem to have placed him under arrest.”

“So I have. He murdered a farmhand, Mr. John Wittington. He did so in cold blood. As I told General Brock, I witnessed the crime.”

“And what did General Brock say?”

“He told me Captain Blaine would be tried for murder and executed.”

“If found guilty,” said the officer.

“Oh, he's guilty, all right,” said Cameron. “Mr. Beazley and myself were there.”

“It were a disgrace to the uniform,” said Beazley, poking Captain Blaine on the arm.

Blaine said nothing. Like so many bullies, once his power was lost, he was meek.

“We will find our way out,” Lizzie announced.

She and her companions exited into the open. It was getting dark.

“I will stay with Matthias Haun and his family in their log cabin by the river,” she said. “The Redcoats are living in their new stone house and their barn was burnt to the ground. They will still offer me good Canadian hospitality, I'm sure. “

“And us,” said Beazley. “If we ain't being arrested, Miss, we'd best be getting back to our company. With General Brock dead and gone, they'll be needing us.”

Lizzie turned to Cameron.

“You, too, Mr. Cameron? Are you going back to fight at the front?”

“For sure, I am.”

“On which side?”

“I am a true Scot and as British as you are, Ma'am.”

“That's not saying much. You were going to desert.”

“No, Ma'am, we were trying to stay out of Captain Blaine's reach. We'd burned down a barn by mistake and failed to kill you.”

“I'm glad you did.”

“And I am, as well. You've a lot of life left in you yet.”

Was he being cheeky or offering a compliment?

“What's your name?” she asked.

“Hugh, Ma'am. Hugh Cameron.”

“Well, Hugh Cameron, I hope we meet again after the war is over.”

“I promise you, Lizzie Erb, we will. I intend coming to the Grand River country, finding you, and courting you, if you'll let me. We will quite possibly marry and we'll settle down and I'll open a blacksmith shop and we'll be happy forever.”

Lizzie choked, and then gathering herself together, she reached behind her neck and undid the chain that held the silver medallion hidden from view. Withdrawing her medallion from the folds of her dress, she handed it to Hugh Cameron.

“Forever is a long time, sir. Return this to me when you return.”

She walked off, smiling broadly to herself and disappeared into the excited crowd, listening to news from the front.

The tide had turned; the battle of Queenston Heights was won. The Americans had been outflanked and retreated to their own side of the river. It was a costly victory and the war was far from over. But Lizzie felt her part was done.

As she sidled away, the stout figure of Beazley appeared at her side. He leaned close to Lizzie and whispered.

“He's a gentleman, you know. He may be a common soldier like me, but he comes from good stock. His family fell on hard times, I believe, but he learned himself the smithy trade and he's an honorable man.”

“Mr. Beazley, are you pleading his case?”

“No Ma'am, Mr. Cameron can plead for hisself. I'm just saying, you know—”

“Go, Mr. Beazley. Here, take this.” She untied her blue scarf and gave it to him. “Go and fight your war. And never fear, I fully intend to marry Mr. Hugh Cameron, should he survive.”

“Oh, he will, Ma'am, I'll see that he does. God bless.”

“Yes,” Lizzie responded as she walked into the single women's quarters. “Yes, sometimes He does.”

Allison

I slept terribly last night. Lizzie Erb has her life in order and that's a relief. Hugh Cameron must have survived the war and returned her medallion. He must have courted her; they must have been married. They must have had children. I know this because the medallion was passed on to me. So, she is my grandmother, with some greats thrown in. And Hugh Cameron is family as well.

As far as I know, the medallion is on a silver chain around my neck. Maddie showed it to me and the nurse who is going to kill me isn't interested. As for
the ordinary
man
, he may want it desperately, but Shady Nook seems to have scared him away. He's patient, he'll wait. As long as it takes. I don't believe he's above robbing a corpse.

Now it's almost time for Maddie. I don't know if Jaimie Retzinger will come with her. It doesn't matter. I'm just curious.

But Maddie doesn't come. Neither does Jaimie. They're not worried about me. I told them I wasn't in danger, not last night nor tonight. That was before my late night caller said, “Soon!”

Maddie must be working late again.

Finally the buzzer sounds, then the bell tolls. Someone turns out my light.

They leave lights on for Kate and me until it's time for visitors to leave. Even though Kate's never had a visitor, and I don't have any except Maddie O'Rourke. I can't really count on Jaimie turning up anymore. David's gone and my mom, well, she's living her life.

Sure enough, around midnight, my door opens and closes.

A voice whispers. I can't make out the words.

The beam from a flashlight shines in my face. It turns and shines on the face looming in front of my eyes. Then another face appears in the light.

It's Maddie O'Rourke and Jaimie Retzinger is with her.

Maddie whispers, “Don't worry, Allie, we're here.”

I hear them shuffling around. Then the flashlight goes off and there is deathly silence.

After about half an hour, my door opens again and someone slips in. The killer nurse comes close to my bed. Not a word is spoken. I feel pressure. It must be my throat. I can't breathe. I'm choking to death. Where are Maddie and Jaimie? I'm screaming inside. Screaming into the wind.

Suddenly a flashlight flares in my killer's face.

The room lights go on. Jaimie yells. The pressure stops. I can breathe again. There is a lot of shouting. Jaimie is swearing. He knows I hate when he swears.

And then it's all over.

Just like that.

After a while police come into the room.

There is a lot of talk.

I can hear Maddie explain that I told her about a serial killer in Shady Nook and gave her the number “seventeen.” She figured it must be important. She came in today and checked the records with the nurse in charge. It was Maddie who discovered there was a death every seventeen days exactly.

She asked questions. She discovered a male nurse had been in a fire that killed his daughter. He was terribly scarred. He usually worked the night shift and he was present for each of the deaths. Maddie wanted to call the police right then but the nurse in charge thought she was nuts and asked her to leave. Maddie got hold of Jaimie Retzinger. They snuck into Shady Nook after the buzzer and bell went off. It doesn't surprise me that Jaimie knows how to pick a lock.

Maddie had climbed up on the edge of my bed while she was talking.

“Did you follow all that?” she asks me.

Sunflowers in Nana's garden. Yes.

“So,” says Jaimie Retzinger. “I saved you again.”

He comes into my line of vision, then he withdraws. I make him nervous.

“Well,” he says, “I'm going.”

He is talking to Maddie, not me.

Soon everyone leaves except Maddie O'Rourke. Then Maddie slides down onto her feet.

“Night, night, Allie. I'm not working tomorrow. I'll come in after lunch. We'll play with our makeup. I've got a new eyeliner you'll love.”

It's very late and I'm tired.

When I wake up, I'm not thinking about Lizzie or remembering her life in 1812. I'm staring at the ceiling. My sight is improving.

Around two in the afternoon, I hear Maddie O'Rourke.

She is talking to someone as she comes through the door.

“Wait just a few minutes,” she says. Then, to me, she says, “So Allison, we caught the killer, you and I.” She doesn't mention Jaimie Retzinger. I know what she thinks; she thinks I can do better than him. She climbs up on my bed, sets her makeup case on my chest and carefully does my eyes.

“There, you look beautiful, Allie. Now, are you ready, I've got a big surprise.”

She leaves for a minute, comes in again, climbs up, leans close, and her huge blueberry eyes are wide. Her amazing waves of black hair sweep across my field of vision. She kisses me on the cheek. I'm getting better at knowing where the pressure is when I'm touched. Then she moves away and another figure leans over me. Gray hair. Glasses.

“Hello, Darling.”

BOOK: The Girl in a Coma
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