Fourteen: Failed Escape
A/N: My interpretation of this scene from 'Prisoners of the Sun'.
"Next time, we'll be sensible people, and instead of scrambling through some godforsaken tomb, we'll come in through the front door!"
Que Dieu, me donne la force.
Tintin ignored the Captain's fifteenth outburst since they had awoken that morning. He summoned what was little of his dwindling patience and grasped the shredded newspaper with more strength than was necessary.
They'd quickly fallen into a simple routine; both would rise around eight, with the Captain complaining and moaning about how hopeless their situation was until eleven. The guards would provide lunch around one, and Haddock would remain in the corner of the cell until dinner, murmuring insults and prayers with his head buried in his hands.
Tintin, on the other hand, had taken to a different routine. He was often awake long after the Captain had fallen into a noisy slumber. He would stare out amongst the stars as they sparkled above the mountaintops, as if teasing him with ideas for escapes that would be impossible to carry out. Even though he had committed the exact wording of the time and date of the eclipse to memory, he still felt the need to consistently read that part of the newspaper, as into reassure himself that he wasn't concocting a plan from thin air.
And it seemed that the Captain felt the need to comment on this habit multiple times a day. "Only a few hours to live," Haddock cried, "and all you can do is read that bloody newspaper for the hundredth time!"
I've had enough of this merde. "And as I have been telling you for the last ten days, Captain," Tintin's voice wavered with anger, "we will be walking free today!"
"Thundering typhoons, lad!" The Captain stomped over from his position at the window, furiously glaring down at the younger man. "I've just about had it with you and your optimism! These people aren't the Brussels police, Tintin - they're not just going to let us go! They didn't even give us a chance to defend ourselves - you saw that yourself! Bloody hell, it would help if you'd share your plan-"
"I told you to trust me, and you PROMISED!" Tintin's voice wavered as he shouted. "I've been telling you how we're going to get out of this situation, and yet all you've done is mope around and rebuke me!"
"Well, I'll happily start dancing around the room if you tell me what your bloody mastermind scheme is!" Haddock bellowed as he crossed his arms, his nails digging into the fabric of his sweater.
"You agreed to trust me! It's too risky if I tell you now! Who knows who may be listening?!"
"Then…Then tell me in French or something, I don't know!"
A hostile silence fell over the men as they quietly fumed in their respective corners of the room, each unwilling to admit any apologies to the other.
It was some time before Tintin gave an irritated sigh. "I think we've just spent too much time together in the one room." He spoke sharply, deliberating gazing at the floor.
"Agreed. I cannot wait to get on that pyre and watch as our souls float separate ways into the heavens," Haddock stormed back to the window and wrapped his hands around the bars. "Blistering barnacles!" He yanked on the bars in frustration, gasping at the sharp pain the appeared in his shoulders. "If it weren't for these confounded bars, I'd soon be out of here!"
He hadn't realised how much strength he was exerting on the bars until he collided with the ground.
"Mon Dieu!" Tintin yelped, having half risen from the bed in fright. "Captaine?!"
Dust fell from his forehead as he stared dumbfoundedly at the new hole in the wall, the remainders of the bars hanging limply around his neck. His brain barely registered the excruciating warmth appearing in his buttocks from where he'd fallen; all it could focus on was the sunlight currently warming his skin.
"…We're free?" The Captain's voice was small, though an ecstatic smile quickly grew across his face. "We're free! THUNDERING TYPHOONS!"
"No, Captain! Don't do it!" Tintin raced to the window, placing a firm hand on the Captain's shoulder. "You'll break your neck!"
"Don't try to stop me, lad!" Haddock kept his eyes focused on the blue expanse in front, taking a few steps back to begin a run up. "I'm not going on their barbecue-"
"Aha! We are just in time, it seems!" The booming voice of the High Priest rumbled through the cell, drawing the attention of both prisoners. A battalion of guards stood behind the priest, each carrying elegant spears that glinted in the morning sun. "Even if you had escaped, seńors, you would have never escaped the wrath of the Sun God."
Haddock clenched his fists in fury. "If you think I'm going to let you and your tin soldiers stop me-"
"Captaine! " Tintin tightened his grip on Haddock's shoulder, attempting to lead him away from the window. He fixed the older man with a stony glare as he mouthed: "Trust. Me."
The priest gave a gleeful smile. "The hour has come! Bring forth the robes of sacrifice!"
Haddock's jaw dropped as their new attire was brought forward. "Thundering typhoons, you can't expect us to wear that Patagonian petticoat?! Never!"
"Captain, please!" Tintin begged, allowing the guards to force the robe over his head. He gave the Captain a pleading stare as his arms were bound behind him. "Do as they say!"
The Captain opened his mouth to fire back an aggressive retort at the younger man, only to be interrupted as the robe was unceremoniously shoved over his head. He seethed with rage as the guards forced his arms through the sleeves and tied them behind his back. Tintin, I am NOT going to my death looking like a walking orange.
As they were forcibly escorted through the winding corridors of the temple and into the light, Haddock found himself replaying Tintin's words in his mind. He hated to admit it, but even though he was confident in the young man's abilities, he still prayed that Tintin would deliver on his promise.
After all, he didn't really feel like being burned to death today.
Not without a drink first.
A/N: Que Dieu, me donne la force = God, give me strength
Merde = shit