‘Oh yeah, she hit the roof when I chucked Aaron out. She’d known for a while apparently. I was the last to know, it seems.’
‘You chucked him out?’ Vanessa’s mouth dropped open. ‘Where’d he go?’
‘He went to stay with his brother, like he’s going to accept him,’ Darnell sneered.
‘Why’s that? Is he against gay people too?’
‘Oh he’s just the tip of the iceberg, that boy. My eldest, Thomas, is a racist little punk. He’s joined some neo-Nazi club in Springfield. He has a swastika tattoo and spends his days intimidating racial minorities. You might have seen the cabin with the Confederate flag, down on Monroe Street.’ Darnell bowed his head in shame. ‘My whole family is an embarrassment. I don’t know what I did to deserve all this.’
‘That’s odd that he’s a racist when he is a minority.’ Vanessa placed her chin on her hand, soaking in the juice of Darnell’s story, which would make a fitting subject for The Jerry Springer Show.
‘Well he’s only a minority on the inside. He was born as white as you. He inherited some ancestral genes and he looks completely unlike the rest of us.’
‘Oh, that must have been confusing when he was born.’
‘You’re telling me! I accused Jasmine of being a whore. How terrible is that? I don’t know what’s wrong with me sometimes. I speak before I think. I’m damn lucky she forgave me for the accusations I made.’
‘But you got a DNA test?’
‘Damn right. And he’s definitely mine. I did my best to warm to him over the years but I don’t think he ever really saw me as his father. Or that he ever really felt part of our family. And all this Nazi stuff, I’m convinced, is just his punishment towards me.’
‘That’s quite a story. Sounds tough. I feel bad blabbering on about my menial issues when you have all that on your plate.’
‘Hey, my family has a whole history of problems. Two hundred years of crap.’ Darnell spluttered saliva as he ranted. He quickly dabbed his mouth with a cloth.
‘I figured as much. You’re quite connected to this case, aren’t you? More so than the rest of us. I don’t mean to assume, but is there some history of slavery which means you’ve taken more of an interest in the case than the others might have been?’
‘Well that’s probably the biggest story of them all.’
‘Care to share?’ Vanessa sipped her wine and sat back.
‘I think I need another drink before I share that one.’ Darnell raised his arm and clicked his fingers towards the waiter before pointing at the empty bottle.
Chapter 9
September 17th 1862 – Antietam Creek, Sharpsburg, Maryland
The troops stood side by side, shoulder to shoulder. Any space between each soldier was filled with a Hawken rifle. The Union Army were dressed in Prussian blue coats, which ran down to their knees. Upon their heads were black felt Hardee hats, which bore a metallic coat of arms on the brim.
The troops were under the command of Major Ambrose Burnside, who entered his corps into action in the first major battle of the American Civil War. The rustlings of conflict had commenced earlier in the morning as Union Major General Joseph Hooker mounted an assault on the Confederate General Robert Lee and his troops, who had declared war on the North. Their conflict, which commenced at dawn, had circulated Dunker Church, a white chapel which rested in the centre of the battlefield they now fought upon.
By lunchtime, the Union Army had intercepted their rival Confederates through a bloody battle on a sunken road. The severed corpses were shred across the path made up of members from both sides, who had left behind families and careers to enter this bloody war. The fight was for American rights on both sides of the argument. The Union Army from the North wanted their fellow man’s right to freedom. The Confederates in the South however were there to defend the rights outlined by their founding fathers, which entitled them to own slaves; now the Northern States were attempting to take that right away from them. Next they’d be coming after their right to bear arms.
The Union Army’s efforts were not enough however, as now in the mid-afternoon, they were still facing a further 2,000 men who were ready to attack. They stood before Antietam Creek, facing their enemy. The Confederates were dressed in red coats and dark blue Kepis hats, and their belts held a buckle with the letters CS upon them, displaying their support for the pro-slavery states.
Other than their uniforms, little distinguished the two armies, except the Union Army had African men amongst their crowd. Escapee slaves, who risked everything for their freedom, were now putting their lives on the line once again to secure the liberty for their descendants and the freedom of their friends. Within the crowd of unionists was a young gentleman called Abram.
Abram had been on a long journey. Born in The Gambia, he’d had a wonderful childhood running freely, swimming and chasing wild animals for food. He wanted for nothing. He was smothered with love from his parents and siblings, and whilst the Western world would have viewed their life in Africa as a tough one, he looked back on those days fondly, as back then he didn’t really know what a tough life was. The Americans opened his eyes to that.
Abram was just twelve years old when the white man took him away. He was swimming when he was disturbed by gunfire. He turned around and saw American ships entering the vicinity. He’d heard all about them. Rumours circulated the village for weeks; supposedly nearby villages had been ransacked by the intruders but the village of Lamin had not witnessed any brutality so far. They
