The Gettysburg Zone Part 1

The moon weaved lazily among the clouds. Monuments to the heroes and the fallen of the Battle of Gettysburg, occassionally gracedby the light, stood as ghostly sentinals. Mute. Foreboding. Testimony to the brutality and savagry that even they had not seen. The view from the castle-like monument on Little Round Top was especially haunting. The fields below, blood soaked more than a century before , teamed with tourists during the day. At night, after the park had closed, shadows roamed freely. Tortured souls or simply some of the hundreds of white tailed deer that called the battlefied home? Logic decreed that it had to be the latter. To those adventurous souls braving the omnipresent park rangers after the 10 o'clock closing time, the former seemed all too possible. Obviously the park patrol was a very real threat to anyoneventuring into the park after theclosing time. But the human psyche is geared to fear what we can't see the most. The ghosts in Gettysburg always make their presence known but they are masters at hide and seek.
Music drifted floated ethereally around the Little Round Top monument. A car drove slowly by. Hushed whipers passed down an unseen line passing along a soft warning: RANGER! A sharp beam from the car's spotlight sliced through the still June night like a Ginsu knife through an overripe tomato. There were no cars parked in the lot. The castle standing regal atop the hill was apparently emptly. It's formed cement masonry held all too many tales of forbidden love and the rendezvous of youth over the years. Even under the gleam of the ranger's spotlight, it gave up no secrets, told no tales. Suddenly there was a loud rustling in the bushes at the base of the structure. The ranger tensed, preparing to leap from the patrol car and apprehend yet another kid who'd had one too many. The spotlight reflected off something familiar and the ranger relaxed. A deer bounded accross the road. It was a buck and larger the most. He stopped momentarily to glance balefully at the ranger's headlight obviously displeased by the interuption of his late night snack. After a few minutes the light went out and the ranger's car moved slowly away, slipping silently into the night.
Karen Lee Hampton clung tightly to Paul Jefferson out of mortal fear of being caught. She was a tall, leggy honey blond, eighteenand reserved to the brink of being boring. She had large blue eyes and the kind of figure that would stop an octegenarian in his tracks for a second look...if they ever saw it. For the most part, no one ever did. The daughter of a Baptist minister, she had moved to Gettysburg from Richmond, Virginia with her parents when her father became the pastor of a small congregation just outside of town. She was a product of one of the most prestigious prep schools in all of Virginia. On a minister's salary, that meant a lot of sacrifice but Richard and Marjorie Hampton were pleased with their investment. When the pastoral job opened up in Gettysburg, a family meeting was called. Karen would work in the church in a secretary capacity for two years before returning to Virginia to attend an acceptable college. She had better than a fifty percent scholarship to Virginia State and between her earnings and her parents contribution, it was practically a done deal. She never questioned any of the plans her parents made for her. Her father was old school Baptist. He demanded obedience to God,the Bible and to him and in that order. It didn't matter that she was old enough to vote. She lived under his roof. And the Bible didn't put a time limit on honoring thy father and mother. It was a given that she would play the obedient daughter role for as long as she lived. But at times the role did get a little stale...especially after Paul Jefferson nearly knocked her senseless on the front steps of the Gettysburg Post Office on a cold February morning.
As the church secretary, Karen wore extremely modest clothes. In her father's way of believing, women didn't wear pants. Living at home, her living expenses were provided for, including clothes meeting her father's approval. Her meager salary went mostly to her college fund. She had a driver's license but no car. So the day after ever payday she would walk from her parents' Baltimore Street home to the town square and deposit most of her check into the Adams County Bank. What she didn't deposit was carefully hidden until her mother could secretly take her shopping for clothes more suitable to a young woman with Karen's natural attributes. Marjorie Hampton was a religious woman, but she was a woman most of all.And she understood her daughter's need to fit in and be somewhat normal. She trusted her daughter and really didn't think that what she wore defined Karen as a person. Sneaking out of the house in those clothes had almost gotten to be a game with Karen and her mother.
Earlier in the evening on that particular June night, Karen was wearing tight black jeans and a crisp white button down shirt. She had tried to sneak out of her parents house without anyone noticing. She would've succeeded, too, had the family's Siamese cat not crossed her path as she was descending the stairs. Her foot barely came into contact with the animals tail when it let out an eerie, spectural wail causing her mother to come running. Marjorie surveyed her daughter's attire with a critical eye, not missing any detail including Karen's obvious distress at being caught and sighed heavily, Karen was Richard's pride but he was so strict with the girl! It occured to her that Richard not only never noticed that his baby was a woman. he was refusing to allow her to grow up. But growing up was definitely something that Karen had done ----with or without the good reverend's approval. It would disturb Richard to see Karen dressed in anything but a dress or skirt and blouse. Seeing her in those tight jeans would raise his blood pressure significantly. The Reverend Hampton wasn't home and Marjorie didn't share in his zealousy. Let the girl have some fun!
Marjorie sighed again and at least tried to put herself in a parental mood. "Where are you going?"
Karen shifted uneasily on sneakered feet. "Paul Jefferson is picking me up. We're going to the Majestic to see a movie."
Marjorie leaned against the door frame. "Why don't you just let him come to the door like a proper date?"
"I-I didin't want..."
"Didn't want me to see that outfit?" Marjorie finished. Just when Karen was about to stammer some feeble excuse, her mother broke out in laughter. "Karen, I'm not your father. You're a very pretty young lady. I don't think it's written that it's a sin to wear jeans."
Karen was skeptical but visibly relieved just a bit. "Do you think they're too tight?"
Marjorie nodded solemnly. "If we were living in the 1800's they would definitely be too tight. For 1994? No." Karen reached for the doorknob. "Karen, honey?"
"Yes, ma'am?"
"How long did it take you to pour yourself into those jeans?"
Karen froze with shock. "Mother!"
"Go on! Have a nice time and tell Paul hello for me. Be in by one." Karen gave her mother a mock salute before bounding down the stairs toward the street. Paul's '69 Charger waited at the curb. Marjorie waved and closed the front door. Karen was a good kid. She wished that Richard was more lenient but he was a "by the book" husband and father. The book was the Bible and, as far as Richard was concerned, they needn't bother printing anything else. In his opinion there was no excuse for modern times. The Bible was very clear: spare the rod and spoil the child. Fortunately he'd never been abusive or heavy handed. merely firm in his beliefs. Marjorie looked at the cat stretched out lazily on the windowsill. "Tattletale!" she admonished with a chuckle.