"Is Miss Rebecca hearing that?" Passepartout asked urgently as the gun shot sounded.
"I don't think that's a coincidence either, Passepartout," Rebecca replied,"Any sign of Jules or Phileas yet?
"No, I am not seeing them, and I am not thinking this is good," the valet said worriedly.
"I'm thinking the same thing."
* * * * * *
The bullet ripped through the night air with alarming speed, but luckily, not alarming accuracy, for it only grazed Phileas' leg below the knee. Fogg cursed through clenched teeth, grimacing down at the wound, now bleeding freely. Verne, further down the street, turned abruptly at the sound of the gunshot and Fogg's cursing. The moment he took one step towards him, Phileas turned his harsh words to him. "Dammit Verne, get to the Aurora. If the League is after you or the girl, or both, we're not about to make this easy for them!" Frozen in indecision, Verne hesitated, even as Phileas drew his pistol and targeted their pursuers. As several of Fogg's bullets hit their mark, Phileas turned the pistol to Verne and pulled back the hammer. "Go," he seethed, battling the insuing pain,"Now." At this threat, Verne turned his back on his crippled friend reluctantly, and took off running down the street once more. Looking behind him as he reached the corner, the last thing Jules saw before turning down the dark street was Fogg, kneeling defiantly, gun raised, firing into the encroaching shadows – he could only hope it was not the last he would see of his friend.
* * * * * *
"Passepartout, lower the ladder," Rebecca commanded.
"Why is we doing this?" he asked as he pulled the lever uncertainly.
"See that figure running down there?" she gestured down into the sleeping city,"He's going to be needing a way up."
"That," Passepartout said excitedly,"That is Monsieur Verne!"
"Correct," she said, putting her hand on the valet's shoulder and staring down at the rapidly approaching Verne,"But Passepartout, what is that he's carrying?"
"I is not knowing Miss Rebecca, but where is Master Fogg?"
"As if I ever know where my cousin is," she laughed nervously.
* * * * * *
Out of breath, but determined, Verne continued through the pitch black streets, focused on the ladder now descending from the balloon. He stopped short as he entered into a moonlit alleyway and saw the trail before him – the dark red trail. "Blood," he panicked,"Not a good omen. Though, Phileas, he couldn't of made it this far, not with his wound."
Out of the dark came another voice,"Not unless, of course, someone 'helped' him along the way…"