Story: Colonel Williams, Ch. 3, pt I

Chapter 3 – At the Market

It was a cloudy day, with threatening rain clouds on the southern horizon. Colonel Williams found himself walking alone down the main street, which was mysteriously deserted. The slave market appeared on his left, a large open area accessed through a wide, square gateway made of red brick. As he entered the market, he noticed a large crowd of people. At the far side of the open market, he saw the business office, a well-constructed building made of wood. Next to it sat a shabby, poorly-constructed building that held the slaves who awaited their turn to be sold on market day.
As he walked farther in, he began to hear the sounds of slaves being bought and sold. On the block was a frightened young man who looked to be in his early twenties. He was dressed merely in a ragged pair of short trousers, which was normal procedure for the sale of all male slaves. The market’s operator wanted owners to get a good view of the physique of the “item”.
The nervous-looking young man glanced around to the left and right, apparently in agony at his circumstances. Without a doubt, thought the Colonel, here stood a man who had overburdened himself with debt and now stood in this humiliated state. How sad that he chased too quickly after too much, greedy for temporary happiness! Now, he had nothing, not even his dignity as he stood barely clothed before rough and hostile men. Williams drew closer, and he could hear the market’s operator just beginning to describe the last offering.
“Gentlemen, here we have a young man, twenty-four years old, in good health. Don’t let his appearance fool you; he is a hard worker, although he is probably better suited to the office than to the field. He is well-educated, originally trained in finance, and thorough with his work. Now, what do you say that we begin at $25 million?”
Williams stopped listening as the bidding began. He had heard it too many times. Too often, he himself had been a participant in these auctions, and even though he was not cruel and not crooked as many of the other plantation owners were, he still hated this market.
Just as the bidding wound to a close – the young man wound up selling for $10 million – Williams heard a beautiful female voice speak behind him. “So, sad, isn’t it, dear, to see such potential wasted as the result of unchecked greed.” The voice was sad and frustrated, and yet underneath it there was a hint of joy, coming from a source far deeper than the worries and cares of this life could touch. Williams knew it in an instant. It was Keren! But how? She was dead. What was going on?
Before he could say anything, she spoke again, “Oh! Look out, Bill, he has a gun!” Williams looked up to see the newly-purchased young man now holding a revolver. Where he had gotten it from, Williams had no idea. Before he knew what was happening, the man took aim for the owner of the market. The security guard that stood at the base of the platform jumped up and struggled with the man. The two wrestled, the younger man showing surprising strength, possibly brought on by the insanity which gripped him. The two staggered back and forth across the stage, the guard nearly taking the control at times, the young man nearly breaking free to begin his rampage at others.
Somehow, in the midst of the struggle, the gun wound up facing towards Williams. He could see it clearly in between the four sets of hands that fought for sole possession of it. Suddenly, a loud bang issued from the gun.

Colonel Williams awoke with a start, grabbing his chest to see where he had been hit. Then, he realized that he was in his room at Providence Estate and that the incident with the slave and the gun had happened four months ago. It had seemed so vivid. Keren’s voice had been so real, its melodious tones so dulcet that he could still hear their faint echoes in his head as the adrenaline rush from the nightmare faded. As he rolled over in his bed and tried to get back to sleep, Williams tried to put out of his mind the aftermath of that gunshot. They were terrible to remember, and he was not ready to deal with them, not yet, not even after four months. With great effort of will, he distracted his mind with anything and everything he could think of, from childhood stories to Bible verses. Soon, he fell back into a deep sleep.