Previously: Just before shooting Lincoln, Booth thinks of the events leading to this moment.Stanton goes to Seward’s house when he hears of the stabbing. Someone tries to shoot Andrew Johnson.
The short man with the red beard scared Gabby Zook. Gabby was on his way out of the White House basement wearing a long coat and black stovepipe hat with a bullet hole in it. The young soldier gave him the hat and coat because it was raining, and it was going to be a long walk from the White House to the Armory Square Hospital. He said the coat and hat belonged to the President of the United States, so Gabby decided he must be the President of the United States. He did not know for sure. The last two and a half years had been very confusing.
“Who the hell are you?” the short man bellowed at him as they met in the basement door.
“I’m the president, aren’t I?” Gabby remembered telling the man.
“Get the hell out of here,” the man barked.
More than half an hour had passed since he left the grounds of the White House, but the rough words still haunted him. That man sounded mean enough to kill someone, Gabby told himself as he put his head down to protect his face from the rain. He gathered the overcoat around him.
“If I am the president,” Gabby mumbled to himself, “then why was that man talking mean to me?” He concentrated on his shoes splashing in the mud. “Maybe he was mean to me because I’m not really the president. I’m just wearing his hat and coat.”
If only he could remember. Cordie would tell him what he needed to know. His sister always took good care of him. That was right. He could not be President because he was Cordie’s brother, and not anyone related to Cordie could be President. Gabby began to recall that he worked at the White House as a janitor. Cordie had gotten him the job because their uncle Samuel Zook was a general, and she felt the government owed the family something because Uncle Sammy was doing such a fine job. One day Gabby was setting out rattraps in the basement when this man and the young soldier brought down a very tall man and short woman to the billiards room. He was behind some boxes setting the traps when the man and soldier caught him. Because “he knew,” the man with the soldier explained, Gabby had to stay in the basement. Gabby did not know what it was “he knew,” but it must have been something bad.
They kept saying the president was being held captive in the basement. Gabby was not certain if they were talking about him or the tall man. The tall man seemed very nice and smart enough to be the President. At times Gabby was sure this man was the President and the woman was his wife. Other times Gabby was sure he was president, and the woman was his wife. He shook his head. That could not be right. He would have never married a woman like that. She was crazy.
Gabby looked up at the street sign. It was Fifteenth Street. Sighing, he wished he had paid more attention when Cordie took him places. He had to find Cordie. What did the young soldier tell him right before he left the basement? Go to Armory Square Hospital. But where was Armory Square Hospital? He must have been walking in the right direction or why else would he have been walking in that direction, Gabby asked himself. Most of the time Gabby listened to his own advice because down deep in his heart Gabby knew he was smart.
He went to West Point, and only the smartest of boys went to school there. Yes, he remembered his best friend Joe VanderPyle was his classmate. They were going to be Army officers. They would have been good Army officers, and then something bad happened. A colonel told them to drive him in a carriage into town. Gabby tried to tell the colonel he had never handled a team of horses before, but the colonel insisted his orders be obeyed. Gabby lost control, and the carriage overturned. Joe died. The colonel said it was Gabby’s fault. After that, Gabby did not know what was right or wrong or up or down. The Army confused him, and he wanted to go home to Brooklyn to his sister Cordie.
Cordie did a good job taking care of him through the years until their money ran out, and they had to sell the old house. She made sure the government gave him a good job. She volunteered at the hospital and took in sewing at the boarding house where they lived. Life was good until he got locked into the basement. The boardinghouse, Gabby repeated. Maybe that was where Cordie was. He took a few steps back the other way before stopping. No, Cordie was not at the boardinghouse. Cordie was dead.
The private told him so, just a day or two ago. But Gabby already knew. He dreamed it. He knew he would never see his sister again. The soldier had brought him a plate of fried eggs for breakfast. They were Gabby’s favorite. Now he was not hungry anymore.
“We’re going home on Friday,” the soldier told him. “You don’t have to worry about anything anymore.”
“Cordie’s dead. There’s plenty to worry about,” Gabby remembered telling the soldier. “Uncle Sammy is dead. Mama is dead. Papa’s dead. Joe is dead. Everybody’s dead except me.” Then he said to the soldier, “Don’t worry. I forgive you.”
Gabby thought the soldier appreciated hearing that. He did not want the young man to feel guilty for keeping him and the couple in the basement for so long. It was someone else’s fault. He had not quite figured out whose fault it was, but he was pretty sure it was the man with the private the day who locked him in the basement. The soldier thought he had been doing the right thing. Gabby could tell he was a good young man. Maybe he could help Gabby figure all this out.
Turning back up Fifteenth Street, Gabby began walking to the White House. The young man told him to go to Armory Square Hospital, but Gabby could not remember why. He was sure the soldier would not mind explaining everything to him again. Finally, he reached the White House grounds and trudged up the path to the basement door. He stopped short. The mean short man with the red beard was carrying a big bundle out the door. He dumped it in an open carriage and went back inside. Gabby edged closer, afraid the man would see him and yell at him again. Looking in the carriage, he saw it was a body. As he leaned in, Gabby lifted a corner of the blanket covering it. He gasped. It was the private.
The soldier’s eyes were wide open and blank. Blood covered his mouth. Gabby carefully put his hand under the private’s head. When he pulled it out he saw more blood. He held his hand out and let the rain wash it clean.
“My God,” he mumbled. “That mean man killed him.” His lip quivered. “Now I really am alone. Even the soldier is dead.” Gabby looked at the door. “And if I stay here I’ll be dead. That mean man will shoot me too.”