A Final Struggle

The barricade shook from the attack of the cannons. General Timothy Ericson was barking orders to try and rebuild the damaged parts of the barricade. The War for Independence had been raging on for months in Philadelphia, and the revolutionaries were still putting up a good fight. All was chaos.

Minutemen were seen piling whatever they could find into one large pile for protection. Everyone seen was men, except for one, Emma Thomas. This particular street rat was dressed as a man. How she came in possession of these men's clothes, no one knows. The disguise was working and no one was the wiser to her true identity. Her hair was pulled up under a hat that covered most of her face; she wore men's everyday breeches, and an oversized men's coat.

The reason she was out in this area of the town was because she was searching for someone. That someone was Mister Matthew Peterson. She had a grand plan worked out in her mind. She would lead him to the barricade where he would most likely die. She would most likely get shot as well so they would die together. It was a brilliant idea she thought. That way she wouldn't have to afflict any more emotional pain on herself by delivering on was of Charlotte's love letters to him, nor one of his own to her. Emma could be happy for once in her life.

Emma wound her way through the streets and alleyways of Philadelphia. She knew where she would find him; sitting in the park sulking that Charlotte and her father were moving out into the Frontier. Sure enough that was exactly where she found him along in the exact same sulking mood. She cleared her throat to get his attention. It worked.

"Mister Peterson," she said in a low voice.

"Hmm," was his only response.

"More men are needed at the barricade," Emma informed him.

Matthew seemed to get a new idea formed in his head as the boy (for he thought Emma was a boy based on how she dressed and spoke) spoke to him. He would just go and sacrifice his life on the barricade. With Charlotte gone he had nothing to lose any more.

Matthew followed Emma down the same streets and alleys which she just traveled. They were at the barricade in a quarter of an hour. Emma and Matthew could hear General Ericson yell more orders to the soldiers and Minutemen that were there. Matthew separated from Emma to talk to some of the other men. They all appeared pleased to have him there to help with the fight.

Emma was now alone. A distraught look crossed her face. This look seemed to imply that some form of a struggle was raging on inside her. Did she want Matthew to die? Should she be that selfish? She knew she wanted to die. There was no doubt about that. Death would mean all her pains and agonies would diminish and she could finally be at peace. All of this was crossing her mind at a rapid pace. She could not think straight anymore.

As she was walking off into the shadows so that she could keep an eye on Matthew for as long as possible, a young man ran towards her. He held in his hand two muskets.

"Take this musket!" It sounded like an order and a plea at the same time. His voice implied an order, his face implied a plea.

Emma's eyes went wide as she took the musket. What in the world was she going to do with this?

"If you see a Red Coat, shoot!" The young man added frantically. He finally ran off back toward the barricade.

Emma stood there trying to make sense of what had just happened. She finally came back to her senses and walked off and leaned against a nearby wall of a store. She was praying that she didn't have to use the weapon that she was now holding in her hands. Emma stood there for almost a half an hour until she saw something red a hundred feet away from her. She began to panic. Emma found the trigger and tried to aim. The firing of a musket was heard seconds later. She did not hit the Red Coat; instead she almost hit General Ericson. The General did not appear happy; his glare was furious.

"If you cannot aim a gun, do not shoot!" General Ericson yelled enraged. He did not need an ill-trained gunman trying to use one.

Emma ran off. She retreated into the shadows immediately. Emma sat down and leaned against the side of a shop and curled her legs in towards herself. All she thought of now was Matthew. Where was he? She couldn't see him anywhere. The internal struggle began again. Did she still want Matthew to die here? She was still positive she wanted to die. Another argument began to take place in her mind. Should she give Matthew the letter from Charlotte? She knew he would be overjoyed to see her elegant script and he would thank her for it, but did she really want to endure the same pain again? No, she didn't want that, but she did want to see Matthew smile and thank her.

Emma was then pulled from her thoughts at the sight of another Red Coat. The Red Coat was not the only person she now saw, she saw Matthew as well. She could also see that Matthew was completely unaware of the Red Coat that was now aiming his gun at him. Emma sprang up from her sitting position and ran towards the Red Coat. The man in red was still trying to aim his musket. Just as he pulled the trigger, Emma could be seen throwing herself in front of the musket. The shot rang out, but Matthew went unharmed. The same could not be said for Emma. She was now lying in a pool of her own blood and was covered in it as well.

Emma had placed her hand, along with her entire body, in front of the musket just as the man pulled the trigger. She had a hole in her hand as well as in the side of her body. She was bleeding profusely, but still tried to crawl towards Matthew.

"Mister Matthew," she stated barely audible. He did not hear her. "Mister Matthew," she repeated a bit louder. It grabbed his attention. His face wore a puzzled expression however. "Do you not recognize me?"

"No," he replied.

"Emma! I'm Emma!" she cried.

"Emma! You're hurt! You need help! Let me carry you to a doctor!" Matthew exclaimed. He tried to pick her up, but she did not allow him to do so. "What is the matter?"

"Did you see that person who jumped in front of that gun aimed at you?"

"Yes," he affirmed.

"That was me."

"Why? You poor child!" this was exclaimed more to himself.

"I don't need a doctor," she informed him. "Sit down."

Matthew did as he was told and kneeled down next to Emma. Emma shifted her position so her head was resting on his knees.

"See! I'm fine! I don't need a doctor! I'm perfectly at ease!" Emma smiled at him. "I want you to promise me something," she added.

"What is it?" Matthew inquired.

"Please, just promise me," she continued. Her breathing was becoming very shallow. Matthew could tell that she did not have long until death carried her off.

"I promise."

"Promise me that you will kiss me on the forehead after I die."

"I promise I will," he assured her.

"Thank you," Emma's response came with a small smile. "I have something for you." She pulled a beige colored envelope out of the pocket of her jacket and handed it to Matthew. He accepted it eagerly for he knew exactly who it was from.

It became obvious to Emma which part of her had won the argument that went on inside her.

"I did not want you to be angry with me after I died. I was expecting us both to die here though. That was the reason why I led you here. I can now be at peace now because I have given you her letter. Please do not be angry with me for leading you here," she said softly.

Matthew was stunned. He felt compassion towards her. This poor miserable creature saved his life. She sacrificed her own for him.

Emma was now gasping for air. Death was at her doorstep. She gave Matthew a pleading look.

"I have one last confession to make. I do believe I was a little in love with you Mister Matthew." Emma took in one last breath before she stopped breathing seconds later and her body went limp. A slight smile was on her face even in death. The poor soul had flown away.

Matthew looked down at the poor lifeless creature he was holding. He kept his promise to her and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.