A few months after the mission at Pottawatomie Creek, our little group was finally able to begin part two of John Brown's full mission: a raid on Harper's Ferry, Virginia.
We set out from John's house, the rays from the rising sun turning our faces and horses a bright orange. For many days, we journeyed across the states until we finally reached Harper's Ferry, Virginia.
***
The sound of our horse's hooves against the cobblestone path announced our entrance to the small town in Virginia. Our "little" group was composed of twenty-one men and myself. John sent four of our men to stand at the opposite end of the town to guard while the rest of us did the dirty work. We marched into the town like a small army, but none of the civilians seemed to notice.
"Remember what I said, everyone," Mr. Brown said to the group. "We need to overrun the arsenal. All we need to is defeat the guard and take whatever's inside. After that, we leave."
I nodded and glanced at the town in front of us.
John Brown cleared his throat. "Ahem, ahem, two of my three sons and my main men will join me to help me with some... personal business."
Mr. Brown swept his arm at one side of the group, and the men he gestured to nodded ad if they knew exactly what John Brown's "personal business" was.
"The rest of you," Brown continued. "Will raid the armory nearby." He pointed to a large building a few blocks away. "My men and I will meet you there, possibly with a few captives. Remember to cut the telegraph wire, so this raid will never exist." His voice was savage yet determined.
I glanced toward Oliver, and he turned his horse in the direction of the armory. I stayed at his side, and around a dozen more men followed.
***
Surprisingly, only one guard stood to watch outside the armory, the evening sun illuminating the drool that dripped out of his open mouth. He snored loudly as our group snuck towards the entrance trying to be as quiet as possible. After noticing that the guard was fast asleep, Oliver hopped off of his horse and beckoned for everyone else to do the same. They obeyed.
Oliver walked over to the guard and tapped him on the shoulder. He popped awake and blinked a few times before finally realizing where he was. Once he noticed how many people stood ahead of him, the guard cowered in fear and dropped his gun.
"Go inside," he said shakily, his head turned away from Oliver.
Oliver rolled his eyes and beckoned for everyone to come inside. "He surrendered, let's keep him with us."
One of the men in our group bound the guard's wrists together, as he gave up without a fight. The man tied the guard to a nearby pole and we all entered the armory, where all the employees were gone for the evening, thankfully.
***
After raiding most of the items in the armory, John Brown and his men finally arrived at the building. Following behind the group was several strangers that were probably captured during the raid. John Brown tiredly set the towel that was one his horse onto the ground. He slammed onto it and immediately fell asleep.
Oliver laughed at his sleeping father. "I agree with dad, we should probably hit the hay. We have no idea what's going to happen tomorrow, so we should rest up."
Oliver and I put our two towels together and patted them down on the cold ground. We then both fell asleep next to each other, Oliver's arm over my waist. Both of our bodies kept us warm, so there was no need for blankets.
***
As the sun's warm rays began to creep through the windows of the large armory building, I slowly blinked awake with Oliver at my side.
He turned over and our gazes met. Oliver smiled, still exhausted from our journey to Virginia. "Good morning, Evan."
"Good morning to you, too, Oliver," I chuckled.
Oliver rose off of the towel and held out his hand. I placed my hand on his, and he hoisted me upward. Once I stretched out my arms, I followed Oliver to where John Brown was peeking out one of the windows in the armory.
I crept over next to him and glance out of the window without saying a word to him. A line of people surrounded the outer edge of the armory, their arms linked together. They all silently waited for us to exit, then they would probably attack.
John Brown muttered a few curse words under his breath in frustration. He clenched his fist angrily, his knuckles turning white.
"I can't let this go downhill," He growled to himself.
I exchanged awkward glances with Oliver, who shrugged.
"Uh," I tapped John on the shoulder, and he whipped his head around and stared at me with his sharp, icy blue eyes. "Would you, uh, like us to do anything, Mr. Brown?"
He rolled his eyes and exhaled, trying to relieve his anger. "Yes. Get the four men who were guarding the rear side of town. Owen, and three other men."
Oliver nodded and ran over to where his brother, Owen, and the three other men slept. Olive kicked Owen awake and shook the other men off of their small blankets. They rushed over to John, who clearly appeared unhappy. Owen was the first to speak.
Owen played with his fingers nervously. "Dad, I didn't mean for this to happen, the civilians knew about it and then they started to-"
"I don't want to hear it," John intervened, trying to speak as calmly as possible, which was very hard for a man like him.. "Just how do you think we're going to get out of this?"
"There's an engine house nearby, but it's very small. There's also a break in the line of civilians outside so we can just charge through, sir," Owen often referred to his father as sir since he wanted to be as obedient as possible.
"Perfect," John replied, a mischievous smirk stuck to his lips. "Let's get everyone prepared and let's leave as soon as possible."
***
After what felt like hours, we finally got everyone into the small engine house. We all were stuffed inside, almost shoulder to shoulder, and it gave me a bit of claustrophobia.
I'm not necessarily scared of enclosed spaces, I'm scared of being close to a ton of people since I'm extremely short. I'm only 5 feet tall, and no one seems to take me seriously because of my height.
Oliver and I began to nail some stray wooden boards to the edge of the windows so no one could enter. On the opposite end of the engine house, John Brown angrily placed a thick wooden board between the handles of the door to keep it shut.
After what felt like hours of turning the small engine house into a fort, the group finally finished their "renovations".
Oliver and I slumped down on one of the walls in the "fort", our legs giving out from exhaustion.
"Finally, we have some time to rest," Oliver joked.
"No kidding," I added.
I leaned my head on Oliver's warm shoulder, our chests rising and falling slowly from tiredness. After some time, we both began to drift off into a much-needed nap.
***
I woke up to the loud bangs of gunshots exploding in the room, my ears ringing from the volume of the gunshots. I rubbed my head and glanced over to where Oliver was supposed to be, and I noticed he wasn't sleeping next to me anymore.
I swung my rifle over my shoulder and zig-zagged my way through the raiders shooting outside of the small hole in the windows, to where I found Oliver defending the front wall of the small engine room.
"What I nice way to be woken up," I joked as I loaded my rifle.
"I know," Oliver laughed. "Real swell, the gunshots were like music to my ears."
For a few hours, Oliver and I helped protect our makeshift fort from the local militia outside. Just like in the armory we stayed in nearby, a line of militia and civilians alike completely surrounded the much smaller building.
We were trapped.
Behind Oliver and I, John sat on the ground, grasping his head in anger. He was speaking with Oliver's brother, Watson, trying to get him and another man to carry a white flag outside the small engine house.
They finally agreed and the two men crawled through the window and outside the fort, their hands raised with the flag in hand.
I continued to keep shooting my rifle, but I also decided to witness what was going to occur next between Oliver's brother and his friend. Oliver didn't seem to notice, as he was so caught up in protecting the building from everyone outside.
To my surprise, the militia outside didn't bother in accepting the white flag. Instead, the men from the local militia loaded their rifles and shot the two men, instantly killing Watson and knocking Watson's friend unconscious. He was probably going to be captured,
I gasped loudly, but no one could hear me due to the hundreds of gunshots that rang through the room. I held back my tears by focusing on my task at hand, and I occasionally glanced at Oliver, which made me more relaxed.
There's no time for crying now, Evan, I told myself. Protect now, cry later. You have something important to do. Don't let your emotions take control.
On the opposite end of the room, I noticed that there were fewer men standing guard.
I turned to Oliver. "Ollie, I need to go to the other side of the room. It's a little weak over there."
Oliver nodded, but I his face flushed to a bright red when I said his new nickname.
I made a mistake of choosing to guard the other side of the engine room. I should've stayed with Oliver.
***
A loud shot exploded through the air, making my ears ring once more. I covered my ears in pain and I frantically glanced around the room to see if anyone was shot.
All of a sudden, I heard someone wail in pain, the scream seemingly cutting the room in two. It almost sounded inhumane, the person who it belongs to must have been in a large amount of pain. The scream. The tone of voice. It sounded so familiar. The scream became shaky with a low, deep pitch and I immediately could tell who the scream belonged to.
It was Oliver.
I sprinted toward the origin of the scream, and time seemed to slow down. My friends fighting at my sides became a blur as I dashed past them at full speed. I didn't care about aiding them in their little skirmish with the militia outside, my main focus was to save the life of the one I loved: Oliver.
I turned back into the corner where I once stood next to Oliver. He laid in the dark, dusty corner of the room, a thick pool of blood surrounding him. He clutched his knee in pain, and blood oozed out of his chest and neck each time he tried to take a breath.
I tried my best to hold back a wave of tears. I repeated the words there's no time for crying now in my mind like I did before. When I finally reached Oliver, no words could stop me from breaking down. He was struggling to stay alive, and his eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. I finally let the tears flow; they needed to.
Every time I blinked, a rush of tears streamed down my cheeks, and I leaned over and hugged Oliver tightly. He weakly set his hand on my back consolingly, trying to show me that everything's going to be fine. He is not going to be fine. For a few moment's Oliver and I hugged in silence with his father kneeling down nearby, observing at a safe distance.
I sat up and brushed Oliver's curly brown hair away from his forehead. Oliver barely managed to crack a smile. He then grunted in pain and pressed his hand onto his knee.
"Evangeline," Oliver rasped, his voice sounding like that of a whistle due to a gunshot hole in his throat that made it difficult to talk normally.
He untied his radiant purple necklace and weakly wrapped it around my neck, my eyes still swollen and glistening with tears.
Oliver placed his hand on the pendant. "This is yours now, Evan. The color reminds me of your purple eye. I was going to give it to you sooner, but I had no time."
"It's okay, Ollie." I clutched the pendant thoughtfully. "Thank you-"
Before I could continue to speak, Oliver shoved me away with almost superhuman strength. I rolled backward on the dirty, cold floor, and I almost bumped into Oliver's father, who sat completely silent.
"Go, Evan! Go away! You can't look at me!" Oliver screamed, his eyes becoming as wild as his father's. Oliver writhed in immense pain, and it hurt me to watch him go through that physical and mental torture.
I did as I Oliver told me to do and turned around to continue the battle in the small engine room, my heart longing for me to stay with Oliver. I finally made the decision to turn around and eavesdrop on the conversation between Oliver and his father.
John Brown rushed to his son and ripped off a piece of Oliver's pants to use as a tourniquet. He began to try to tie it around Oliver's leg, so the pressure could ease the pain in the gunshot wound in his leg. Oliver pushed his father away and untied the piece of clothing, throwing it to the ground.
"No, father!" Oliver shouted, his voice whistling. "Just kill me! Please!" Oliver folded his hands together, practically begging for his father to take his life.
I stopped in my tracks and headed for Oliver, anger boiling in my veins. My cheeks grew warm and my knuckles grew pallor from my tight fists.
"Please!" Oliver continued to plead. "I won't be able to walk again! I can't live the rest of my life like this! You have to understand, father! Do what's best for your son!"
"No!" I shouted back at him. "I can't let you die."
"And why is that?" Oliver growled, his face turning a pale white.
"Because I can't lose you, Ollie. You have to understand that." My voice grew softer and quieter. "Oliver, I love you. I can't lose you now-"
My words were cut off as I noticed that Oliver's chest stopped rising and falling. His eyes remained wide open, and he stared blankly at the ceiling.
I clutched the pendant on my new necklace tightly and began to scream. I let out all of my emotions that I harbored in the deepest depths of my mind for so long. I couldn't do anything else but scream and cry. I couldn't do anything to bring Oliver back to life, so my only option was to grieve.
I instantly regretted every time I grew angry at Oliver, including the time I got angry at him right before he lost his life, but I usually grew angry at him because I loved him and wanted to protect him. I wanted what was best for him, so I became angry at him. I still wish that he didn't beg for his father to kill him, it made my heart break knowing that he didn't want to try to save his life.
Oliver's father finally stood up and placed his hand on my shoulder. "Evangeline, we're going to need to go help the others."
I shook my head angrily. "No. Just wait, please."
I leaned over Oliver's dead body and brushed a loose strand of hair behind his ear. "Don't worry, Oliver. I know how much you wanted to abolish slavery just like your father, so I dedicate the rest of my life on this planet to follow your footsteps. I will do whatever it takes, including risking my own life, to abolish slavery."
"I love you."