Voices in Mount Hope Cemetery

“Hello, travelers.” Both boys shrank back, startled by the voice. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Come in and sit down.” The voice was coming from a man, a white man who was stooped over. He handed Steven the candle he’d been holding and pulled two crates out of the darkness. When Steven handed him back the candle, he could see that the man had dark, bushy eyebrows, but his hair and his beard were white. Steven wondered how old the man was but realized that his age was not the important thing about this man. The man motioned to the crates. “Have a sit down for a few minutes. You’ll get a good meal here real soon. Enough to fortify you on your journey.” “Journey?” Steven said. Was this man going to help them get back to 2001? Lamar leaned into him, and he still felt cold although the shivering seemed to have stopped. Afraid of what Lamar might say, Steven held out his hand to shake with his new friend. “Thank you, Sir, for whatever food you can give us. My name is …” “Stop!” the man shouted so loudly that Lamar almost fell off his crate. “I’m sorry, Son. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’ll gladly shake your hand, but we never reveal names here. You can call me Uncle, and I’ll call you both Son. Steven tried again. “Okay, Uncle. Do you know where we came from?” “No, and I don’t know where you’re going. This is just a stop on your journey.” Steven was confused. How could they get back home if the man didn’t know where they were from, not that explaining time travel would be an easy thing. He looked again at Lamar, who looked like he was about to cry. There was a knock on the door at the top of the indoor stairs. “That’s your supper, I expect. Stay here and don’t talk.” He looked at Lamar. “No crying neither,” he added. He passed Steven the candle again and quickly climbed the stairs. Not too bad for an old man, Steven thought. The trip back down was a little slower as the man juggled two plates piled high with food and two cups of water. Both boys’ eyes lit up at the sight of thick slabs of ham sandwiched between slices of thick buttered bread. There was also a heap of potato salad, a warm dish of applesauce, and two giant pickles. The man laughed as first Steven and then Lamar finished every bit of food on their plates. “I almost forgot,” he said while reaching in his pockets. “You boys don’t like cookies, do you?” Lamar’s eyes got big. “Yes, Sir – I mean Uncle. We do. Mama makes the best …” Uncle stopped him again. “Now, don’t tell me about your mama. The less I know the better, although I admit to being curious. You boys don’t look beat up enough to be field hands, and your clothes don’t look like they belong to field hands neither. You must have worked at the master’s house.” He held up his hand. “But don’t tell me anything.” He handed them each a couple of cookies. A knock on the outside door prevented them from responding. “Listen,” said their benefactor. “Listen to the knock. Listen for the rhythm.” Knock, knock, knockknockknock, knock, knock. Silence. Knock, knock, knockknockknock, knock, knock. Uncle smiled. “That’s her. That’s your conductor.” He pointed at Steven. “Go, help her in.” Steven shoved the last cookie in his mouth and hurried up the stairs to lift the same door that they had come through only a short time ago. He almost lost his balance as someone swept right past him down the stairs. “Go down, Moses,” said Uncle. “Way down in Egypt’s land,” responded the new arrival who spoke like a woman but looked like a man. She embraced Uncle briefly and then turned to look at the boys who didn’t pretend they weren’t staring at her. This was a brown-skinned woman shorter than their mama who was dressed in a dark, worn-out shirt and torn pants that were tied with a rope. Her eyes were bright, but her skin was rough. Lamar wanted to see if she had any gray hairs like their mama had, but the woman’s head was wrapped up tight in a scarf. “Who …” An elbow in the side from his brother kept Lamar from finishing his sentence. Uncle seemed to read his thoughts. “Boys, this is Moses. She’s here to conduct you on your way.” “On our way where?” said Lamar as he grabbed onto Steven’s T-shirt again. “You don’t need to know where,” said Uncle. “Let’s just say you’re on your way to the Promised Land. Moses, will you sit a spell and have something to eat?” “Thank you, Uncle, but you know that I can’t eat until I lade my cargo onto the ship. I’ve got other parcels waiting to board. I wasn’t expecting any more tonight, but our friend thought these two were in danger, so he sent me word, and here I am. If we’re too long, the others will have to leave without us.” “Understood, Sister. Let me get you a bag of provisions, and you and your passengers can be on your way.” Uncle ran up the stairs faster than a man of his age should go. The woman called Moses looked more closely at the boys. “Is you brothers?” “Yes, Ma’am,” said Steven. As he drew Lamar closer, Steven could feel him start to shake again. “Don’t fear, Young’n,” said Moses. “You and your brother are going home to freedom.” Uncle appeared again at the top of the stairs. He tossed a canvass sack in Steven’s direction. “Carry this son, and God be with you.” Steven, and then Lamar hollered a thank you to Uncle as they hurried to follow Moses out the door.