The man had just been recalled to life. He probably had no idea of where he was or what was happening, but his left arm was already over my shoulders as madame Bayard and I helped him downstairs. He had to lean on me for support, for he could not use his left leg at all. It didn't seem to cause him pain either, or else he would have screamed when madame moved it to help him out of the bed. Truth be told, he probably did not feel anything anymore from the knee down anymore.
Madame had been very clear: as she and monsieur Bayard dealt with the soldiers, who knocked on the door desperately, I was to carry him, find a fiacre and take him to his aunt's house.
The task, which would have been difficult even if we had been remarkably healthier, seemed impossible.
I could feel his weight pressing on my wounded shoulder, but there was no other way, he would not have been able to stand without leaning on someone, so I just tried to ignore the pain by repeating over and over the address of his aunt's house. Madame opened the back door shortly after we heard monsieur Bayard's voice greeting the soldiers. She gave us a blessing and a goodbye, for she had to run upstairs and fix the room before the uniformed men went there. I like to believe she was able to do so, and that the soldiers didn't find anything to charge them with, but like most stories of this kind, it is better not to know the real ending.
I didn't get a chance to, either. Suddenly, Enjolras and I were out in the streets, limping through the darkness. We could barely walk and I feared I would fall down at any moment, bringing him to the ground with me. To the right there was an alley and I judged darkness would be our friend and ally, so I guided us towards it. I tried to run as fast as I could, feeling his warm body on my shoulders with each step. A moist came from the alley and I couldn't stop feeling the walls were getting narrower and narrower.
I kept repeating the address over and over as well, but it did little to distract me from the growing pain. I could only think of throwing up, and the weight on my shoulders seemed to be growing while I became closer to the floor, which, for some reason, would not stop moving. Before I knew it, one of my ankles bent.
I fell.
He grunted.
There were footsteps coming towards the alley.
I could not stand up right away and I certainly had no strength to lift him, but we had to be quick, someone was coming, I could hear the footsteps becoming louder. I managed to stand up. I wrapped my arms under his.
"I'm sorry" I whispered "but this will hurt."
Without further warning, I dragged him to a dark corner where several barrels, wooden boxes and empty bottles were stacked. I heard his grunts as his legs slid over the poodles of rain water and the shrieks of rats which I could not see but I could feel running next to my feet. The footsteps grew louder.
I clutched next to Enjolras behind the barrels, making sure he was well hidden.
"Just leave me he-" I covered his mouth with my hand, a bit too harshly perhaps, before he could finish the sentence. With my eyes I begged him not to continue once I let go.
I looked at the entrance of the alley, where I could see a silhouette. By his body build, it was safe to assume it was a soldier. A supposition confirmed by the sound of his boots against the stones, and the golden insignia which glittered momentarily on his chest. From my corner I watched in silence, I could hear the beating of my heart in my ears like a snare drum in the gallows. Enjolras breathed loudly next to me, the soldier walked further. Beat. Breath. Boot. Beat, breath, boot. Beat, breath, stop.
"I see you."
For a moment I thought I had swallowed my own heart. Quick! But what to do! I quickly grabbed one of the empty bottles on the ground, my hands were sweaty and it nearly slipped, but I was able to hold on to it as I stood up.
"Good night, officer" I said, trying my best to sound as drunk as possible. The illusion was enhanced by my loss of balance, caused truly by the quickness with which I had stood up.
"What are you doing here?" He demanded.
"Pardon-moi, monsieur le soldat," As I replied I moved away from the barrels "I didn't know it was a crime to sleep here."
"Are you alone?" He briefly looked around, squinted at the dark corner.
"All alone, sadly." I stood between him and Enjolras's hiding place, I even dared to play with his insignia in an attempt to distract him. "Have you come to keep me company?"
"Back off. Have you seen anything odd around here?"
"Odd? No, not at all, no, no…at all"
"Anyone running around here?"
"Oh then yes! I saw three men running in that direction" I pointed at the entrance of the alley which lead back to the main street. "They went down the street and then I saw them disappear through one of the alleys to the left."
"How did they look?"
"They, well, they were young and…and revolutionary…"
"They looked revolutionary?"
"You better stop them, monsieur."
"That way, you say?"
I nodded.
"If you're lying you little-, I'll come back and make sure you know what pain is."
"I wouldn't dare to, monsieur."
He turned around and left the alley. I waited until the footsteps faded to return to Enjolras. He had not passed out, so that was a good sign.
"C'mon, we're almost there" I lied as I tried to lift him, managing only to inflict more pain on both, him and myself. I would have to drag him the rest of the way. I apologized in advance.
I gathered strength. And although my shoulder was killing me and my knees trembled, I was not going to stop. Because, if I was going to die soon, and by this point I was pretty certain that I was, I could at least help him before doing so.
For every step, the alley seemed to grow three more. I had to stop to take my breath quite often, but we continued, I dragged him across those cold stones trying to cause as little pain as possible, which in his state and mine was rather difficult. But somehow, we made it to the other end. Afterwards, finding a coach was easy. I believe the coachman himself helped Enjolras get in, else I cannot explain how he ended inside the fiacre. By that point, you see, the world was spinning around me, and the following events were wrapped by a thick fog.
I recited the address, I believe I recited it far more times that it needed to be. I can't really remember the ride, but I remember I stepped out eventually, and there was a woman in a violet dress. She said something, but I only remember the violet dress. Yes, the violet dress…Enjolras in the arms of strangers…the coach resuming its way…a glimpse of the moon above as I began to walk aimlessly.
Walking aimlessly, for, before they could invite me inside, if they were even planning to, I was already on my way. I was off to do what I knew how to do best, and what, now that there was truly nothing left for me, was the only thing to be done: roam the streets. I had cheated death once, but I was certain I was bound to finally find her again, hiding somewhere in those cold Parisian streets.
How long did I walk? Where was I? I don't know, but the scene seemed familiar. Dark streets, scattered thoughts, freezing breeze crawling through my bones. It was a remarkably cold night, for my hands and feet ached. The only source of warmth seemed to be my right shoulder which was covered by a liquid that I mistook at the moment for sweat. As if driven by an invisible force, I found myself surrounded by dirty streets and the usual faces that come out at night.
The folk of always, woman in cheap dresses, with heavy makeup and huge breasts, who lost interest in me as soon as they realized I was just another gamine, and the filthy men who counted sous besides them and whose interest grew as they realized I was just another gamine. I had no intent to approach or address either, I had no intent but to the walk the streets and wait, just wait until it was all over. A simple enough purpose, yet nothing is ever so simple, is it?
"Are you alone, my girl?"
A man had approached me, I did not even look at him, but I could not walk fast enough to lose him.
"By God!" He grabbed my wrist and I had no strength to stop him. "You poor girl, you're hurt!"
"I don't-"
"You'll bleed out, my girl."
"I really-"
"Or freeze to death."
"But I-"
"Eh Scarlet! Scarlet!" Without freeing my wrist, he turned his face to the side. Suddenly, a blond haired woman approached us. I remembered thinking , or rather, wondering, how could her bountiful make up fail to hide the lines under her eyes and above her lips.
"Scarlet, this poor girl is hurt, take her to the house and make sure she's taken care of."
The woman nodded and as soon as he released me from his grasp, she was already holding me to make sure I would not lose my balance.
"Oh poor child, look at you, your coat is full of blood! What happened to you! Don't you worry, we'll get you fixed in a second. How does a bed and a piece of bread sound, huh? "
To be honest, it sounded surprisingly nice. With some resignation I let her guide me inside an old house which I could not look at before we entered through a narrow door. What did it matter if I ate some bread there or not, in the end I was bound to find death soon, I knew it had to be so.
By the loud moans and groans and grunts, I got a pretty good idea of what type of house it was. I was too tired to care, though. Scarlet led me to a second floor and into one of the few rooms whose door was opened. Inside there was only a bed and a table on which a clock stood next to a lonely candle which, when she ignited it, provided the only light of the place.
"Let's take a look"
And without further ado, she calmly took away my coat and my chemise, exposing the stained bandages on my shoulder. She removed them slowly, and made such a variety of grimaces that I could only imagine the wound she was looking at.
"This ain't a stab, is it child? This was a bullet, no doubt! But don't worry, there's nothing Rodolphe's rum can't fix, just wait here"
I considered leaving right away, but a part of me, the most primal part if you wish, refused to leave the relatively warm room and step out to the cold again, so when she returned with a suspicious brown bottle, needle and thread, I was still sitting on the bed where she had left me.
"You don't have to do this, I-" I didn't get to continue because she poured some of the liquid on the brown bottle on my wound. I clenched my teeth and dug my nails on the mattress so hard that they hurt afterwards. I let out a small shriek, not louder than the ones that came from the neighboring room.
"And this isn't even the beginning" She said with a smile. "Drink some."
She passed me the bottle, and in an attempt to mute the senses, I gulped some of the rum, which went down my throat like a cat with its claws unsheathed.
When I put the bottle away I noticed with terror that she had grabbed the needle and the thread. I tried to stand up, but she was quicker and with little effort her hand was pressed on my healthy shoulder making sure I couldn't flee. I had no time to argue before the needle pierced my skin, but it was only when I felt the thread passing through the wound that the world went black.
I was unlucky enough to be alive the next morning and the one after that.
I left a little easter egg (Is that how it's called, 'easter eggs'?), well a little reference from Dicken's A Tale of Two Cities at the beginning. Thanks to canterwoodgames, Break This Spell666, RosePhin, Midnightstar-and-Echosong, ConcreteAngelRoxHerHalo and Alex-samsprout for all their support! As always any comment, suggestion, or question is more than welcomed.
Greetings from Colombia
