Chapter Three

Alexander managed to crawl ashore miles from camp. His uniform was caked in mud, his hair was plastered onto his face, and his entire body was trembling with exhaustion. His body protested every step that he took along the shore, but he couldn't lay down and sleep in a strange area. He could have been washed up beside an enemy camp. It was possible that spies were already watching him.

So he struggled onwards. He walked, and walked, and walked, and, you guessed it, walked.

As the sun began to rise, he arrived at what appeared to be a portside down. Boston, perhaps.

He walked as best he could towards the ports - perhaps he would find a vessel setting sail for England there - but ultimately collapsed in front of what appeared to be a tavern. His body refused to move. His throat throbbed with pain that only a gallon of water could soothe. His feet ached. His arms felt like lead.

Citizens walking past the tavern pretended that he doesn't exist, most likely assuming that he was another soldier who drank too much on his leave of absence. Alexander was fairly certain that he would meet his demise in the courtyard of the little tavern; hardly the glorious death that he had imagined for himself when he had joined the Revolution. Just as his eyelids threatened to close forever, a douse of cold water brought Alexander back into the world.

"Up, you." An older woman demanded, her tone stern and her face frowning. Alexander watched her dimly. She was holding a bucket, which appeared to have more water in it. "Are you with the General's troops? Does he know what you're up to, young man?"

"Unh?" Alexander murmured, unable to speak articulately.

The woman sighed and looked off to the side. "Oi, James, how much has this one had?"

"That one?" Alexander heard another man speak. He couldn't see him, though, and he was far too exhausted to move his head to look for him. "Don't recognize the face. I don't think I served him at all."

"Sir?" The woman crouched down and nudged Alexander, her voice becoming concerned. "Sir, are you injured?"

"Unh," Alexander repeated, trying his best to emphasize the sound.

"James, I think he might be injured. Would you carry him to my parlor, please? Sir, I am going to take care of you." The woman told Alexander as he felt himself being lifted off the ground by what must have been a very strong man.

Alexander didn't remember anything after that.


"Cozy."

John paced around the perimeter of his cell. It was quite large, housing himself and a few rats. Multiple guards stood at the entrance, not including Eddy or Reggie as far as John could tell by how they were murmuring instead of arguing.

There were bars on the small windows. A crummy-looking bed shoved into a corner. A decent view of the street. John sighed. He was positive he'd be questioned by some snot-nosed, white-wigged official sooner or later about his fellow Americans.

He heard footsteps coming up the stairs not too far from him. He heard familiar voices.

"I'm speaking first."

"No, I am."

"You're too weak, Eddy. He gave me a black eye!" Reggie protested.

"He didn't do anything except insult me. He seems ok, for a rebel" Eddy reasoned.

They stopped in front of the cell door. Reginald pulled out a key and unlocked the door. It opened and the two stepped in. "The general wants to see you, Laurens."

"Oh, lovely, right at the time I was planning to go shopping for a new uniform. I'll have to reschedule." John pretended to be irritated.

"Just get your hands behind your back. We want this done quick."

"Fine. Hey, question: Are you two brothers?"

Reginald stopped himself. He glanced at Eddy then back at John. "Of course not. What makes you think that?" He sounded like he was in total denial.

"You don't have to lie, Reggie," Eddy looked at John. "Yes, we're brothers. How'd you figure it out?"

"You two seem to hate each other."

"Oh, we do," Reginald rolled his eyes. "But someone has to keep an eye on him during this war." He gestured to Eddy.

"Have you ever been in a battle?"

"Of course. I've been to America twice, and was in several battles."

"Which ones?"

"I can't remember much ABOUT the battles...they were all very sudden."

"If you ever remember, tell me. We might've been fighting each other on opposite sides at the same battle."

"Yes, I suppose so. Now enough small talk, the general will throw a fit if we don't get there soon." Reginald grabbed John by the wrists and put them behind his back, then tied them with a rope. John now only had Eddy to continue conversing with.

"Have you ever been to America?" John asked Eddy.

"Um, yeah. But I'm just a guard. I never went to battle." Eddy rubbed his arm. "I always thought it was silly anyway. I doubt I'll go back now."

"How is it silly? There are people fighting for their freedom!"

"I know, but I don't understand why we couldn't just… make nice with each other and not fight. Give you guys your freedom and not waste any lives over it. Do you get it?"

John was surprised that this was his opinion. Still, he rolled his eyes. "That would be the boneheadedness of a certain King at work."

"The King is great! It's you rabble-rousing Americans who are in the wrong." Reginald had finished his tying of John's hands.

Eddy took out a pocket watch he was apparently concealing in his uniform. "Oh, wait, we can't take him there now. The general has that meeting."

Reginald groaned. "We'll have to wait then. But I'm not untying him." He eyed John.

"Why'd you even tie him up in the first place?"

"Because I don't need another black eye!"

"Woah, Woah, gentleman, you can fight about me later when you're at the kitchen table. Right now I think it's time to untie me," John cut in and reasoned.

Eddy walked over and began to untie him.

"Edward!" Reginald protested.

"He's perfectly fine to stay here without being cuffed. Let's just go. We can come back for him later. It's not like he can go anywhere," Eddy stated.

Reginald folded his arms."Whatever."

Eddy smiled. He finished untying John and made sure he didn't move at all. He grabbed Reginald by the hand and led him out. Reginald kept his eyes trained on John, but John didn't move. He just smirked.

Then as the door slid shut, locking itself, the two Redcoat brothers walked away.