WARNING: if you just want the story and don't care about what ever I think
JUMP the 3 fowling paragraphs.
Time for the seventh chapter, up in full. There will be, probably one chapter with Jesse, then with Winnie, but nothing's sure yet. On my way in the car towards my so precious holidays I've been thinking hard, things seem to be twisting more rapidly now. But, I just don't have all the time I'd like to right!!!!
So the next chapters will be scarce. Sorry, but my holidays are soon up. Anyway, I'll be able to construct the fowling chapters in English at school (I don't really need the kind of courses.)
Well, here it is!!! Coming right now:
Jesse was lying on a bed more comfy than he had expected in front of iron bars. He tried to run his hand threw his hair, but it couldn't go threw it completely because of it was filled with knots, not that he cared about them much.
He still had a hard time figuring out if he was still dreaming.
There were no windows, he was alone here. The room was illuminated by powerful lamps. The walls were white, like a hospital, clean and smooth. The metal bars were shiny, as if someone had just used a lot of elbow grease to make them so.
He rubbed his eyes.
Behind the bars was a small space and then a door, white, like the rest.
He wasn't sure how much time had gone by; a day, weeks... No food was sent, but he could drink from a tap, and there was a shower for him to wash.
Under the white cover, Jesse wore a white cotton gown, like those you had in hospitals, he guessed. He'd entered one once for a job.
He scratched his head. His stomach protested with hunger, it was always like this. However, his body didn't seem to mind much.
The door opened and a man with broad shoulders, thick arms a bold head and dark skin came in.
"Jesse Tuck." It wasn't a question but a statement.
He came over and opened the cell's door.
"What's this?" Jesse asked. "Can I leave?"
"No, Son," the man said. "Not yet. But soon enough if you cooperate."
Jesse jumped up and marched to the door. The man stopped him going any farther by gripping his shoulder and dragging him back in front of him.
"Presmontan Lucas," he presented himself, taking Jesse's hand to shake it.
Jesse was led out of his cell in to a corridor; the walls painted black making it easy for the white clothes to be spotted.
"What's happening?" Jesse asked.
"We need you."
"Really!" Jesse exclaimed. "What for? I thought I was untrustworthy! Isn't it why you locked me up?"
"There's worse than just telling everybody that they're immortals, Lad."
"That means you've drunk from the Spring too? And stop calling me "Lad", I'm 138 years old for Goodness Sake."
"I drunk from an Oasis in Egypt, not a spring. I have the right to call you Lad, for I've lived two milliners, your boasting is no use."
Jesse stopped in his tracks. "2000 years" he told himself.
"Are you Egyptian?" Jesse asked curiously.
"It is none of your business, Lad."
Lucas opened a door on the side. Before Jesse had time too enter it, he heard a scream, an animal howl of madness.
Jesse stopped in his tracks and looked back, his ears searching for any other sound. He wondered with dread in what situation he had put himself in.
"What's the matter?" Lucas asked with a gruff voice.
"I heard someone... yelling..." he trailed off.
"You must be mistaken, I didn't hear anything."
With reluctance, Jesse entered another white room where two other persons where waiting, siting at a metallic table.
***
Winnie was still holding to her log but not as tight as before. She felt tired, weak. Her legs hurt with blisters made by the cold current and finally her arms slipped off the wood. She let herself go; unconscious that her head was under the surface of the sea and that her lungs were filled with its water.
She felt like in the arms of her mother, the water rocking her to sleep.
***
Again Jesse was sitting in front of two individuals. But these had white hoods hiding their faces.
"Number 750?" one of them asked Presmontan.
"Jesse Tuck," he told them.
Jesse grimaced: they had called him a number to recognise him.
They then turned to Jesse: "You can accept our offer as an alternative of your cell."
"I accept!" Jesse said immediately before knowing what the offer was.
One of them gave Jesse a pen and a paper with a long text, which he had to squint to read. He gave up after two lines of formalities and just put down his signature at the end of the page.
"Now what?" he asked.
"The German Empire is on the move. They have recruited, men, like us."
Jesse frowned. "People that have drunk from the spring?" he asked.
"Yes. These Immortals have infringed the rule 13, chapter 103 of the tenth constitution of our laws..."
"You have a constitution?"
"The task is simple, Number 750, you will enter out special police squad for two years. You'll be sent to the front, most likely to capture these guilty."
Jesse thought about it.
"These people, these guilty, what have they done?" he asked.
"An Immortal is of great utility in a war, an Immortal can be shot and continue their mission. They can enter a base with dynamite attached to their bodies, explode it from there, and come out of it. They can do nearly anything, they are not frightened of death."
He had only seen one person be killed, and that was for an important cause. Mae Tuck couldn't have done otherwise to stop the Man in the Yellow Suit from taking Winnie away and using her as a... He shuddered. He thought he would do the same if something happened like that again. But, these men sounded like they were paid to kill...
"Why?"
"Money, a good situation... It is no fun to spend eternal life miserable," one of the hooded person said. "Madness is also a reason. It is hard to comprehend something that is completely different from what is meant to be. Some kill because they want to know death. There is many reasons, more or less logic. We will explain, but not now."
***
The fishermen sung together pulling the nets after they'd stayed in the depths of the water all night.
They pulled it on to the deck and started untangling the fish from it and putting them in baskets. But this time they didn't only find fish, but young girl, naked, blue with cold.
***
Winnie woke up on a hard floor, vomiting all the water that had entered her lungs. Grey danced in front of her eyes. She heard deep voices. She coughed again and again making her voice raspy as she yelled where she was.
None of the fishermen understood what Winnie was trying to say, but one of them picked her up and took her to a wooden bench where he put a cover around her and forced some warmth into her body.
***
Jesse looked up at the ceiling from the top a double bed, his wrists were still handcuffed. He wore a green jumper, autumn had come with the cold wind. He felt worried and sad. His Winnie wasn't there, she'd left after their brief encounter.
One of his captives was always there, making sure that he wouldn't escape. He was now on a train going east to the "front" as the French called it. A couple of men that weren't able to fall from gunshots had been seen and they were meant to stop them.
What he had to do, in group was to encircle one of these "Castallians" as they were called and needle them down with nets an other and then transport them to the nearest "camp" where they would be seen to. He wondered what you could do to an immortal that was "mad". The ones that had killed for money would be incarcerated for a while, given enough money to not need to kill anymore and that would be it. But the ones that weren't able to change, what happened to them?
"They" had refused to tell. Jesse wondered if it had to do with the awful scream, five days ago when he had just got out of his cell. It still made him shiver, thinking about it.
It looked like that she had drunk from the Spring in her twenties. Jesse thought that she hadn't drank for him, after all.
There was no reproach in his thoughts towards Winnie, but towards himself. For have been stupid of letting her on her own for so long, when he could have turned up, seven years after they had first met... He shook his head, telling himself to not dream too much about what could have been.
By night, he had other kind of dreams. His mind was tortured about the people aboard the boat that had been taking them to France, he didn't think it necessary. In many nightmares, he was with them, dying in flame and water.
Hate slowly spread in his mind.
But what he had decided now, was to search for Winnie. He wouldn't wait and help turn down these Castallians. He would escape and search for her. He would be out there, looking for her, and nothing else. He was so worried for her, she could be anywhere out there, maybe still in the sea. But alive, that was for sure.
He got down of the buck bed. Lucas Pressmontan was lying on the bed underneath Jesse's.
"You talk in your sleep, Lad."
Jesse didn't remember sleeping just now. But Dread took him, wondering if he had told too much of his plan.
"Who's Little Winnie Foster?" he asked.
"It's none of your business," Jesse put the same words as Lucas's in his mouth.
"You better tell me, or we'll take you back to your cell," the big man threatened.
Jesse sat down on a chair and tried to cross his arms in a suborn manner, but handcuffs stopped him. Instead he just let them hang..
"In you file there is nothing about a Winnie Foster," Lucas said. "Now, spit it out."
Jesse didn't say anything.
"Never mind, I was just trying to speed things up, I've already sent the name to "Home" for my "comrades" to find out."
"Home" was were they had left, the place where they had put Jesse, with white rooms and black corridors.
Jesse swallowed hard. How much had he been talking in his sleep?
***
Winnie had been given a cup of steaming milk. She was now slowly sipping it.
She wore a woolly shirt. The thought that the fishermen had seen her naked didn't make her blush all feel ashamed, she just didn't care, there more important things.
For her, Jesse was lost. He must have sunk to the bottom of the sea. She would never see him again. She had lost her husband, son, and friend, all in a couple of days. She had even lost her clothes. She only had flesh and bones with the goodness of the French fishermen.
However, she had finally reached France.
There we are, this is a bit shorter, I confess. But I couldn't mention anything else or it wouldn't have been a real chapter, I mean...
Anyway, holiday was great, and it's hard to get back to work for school.... I can't promise anything for the two next days, that's for sure.
Anyway, hope you enjoyed it!!!
Thanks again for the REVIEWS!!! Your great!!!! It only makes me more want to write!!!! I might as well remind you that REVIEWS are my favourite treats, I never can have enough. So, if it's your day of kindness, it's welcome!!!
Ps: thanks for mentioning it, HAA, You're right, Presmontan is play on words, in french Pres: phonetically comes from the verb "Presser" which means to squeeze or to speed up, and "montan" is "mon temps" = my time. The name goes with the man, if you know what I mean.
Yes, there hasn't been many chapters up lately, huh? Well, I hope by over reading my work, adding a few things here and there, taking some off will make you appreciate it more. (I did awful grammar mistakes and other... and I don't find it too nice when I read stuff that like that, it can screw up the effects you would like give... I've tried to work on that... it's still not perfect, I agree) But you can give me your opinion by just REVIEWING!!! cio
Time for the seventh chapter, up in full. There will be, probably one chapter with Jesse, then with Winnie, but nothing's sure yet. On my way in the car towards my so precious holidays I've been thinking hard, things seem to be twisting more rapidly now. But, I just don't have all the time I'd like to right!!!!
So the next chapters will be scarce. Sorry, but my holidays are soon up. Anyway, I'll be able to construct the fowling chapters in English at school (I don't really need the kind of courses.)
Well, here it is!!! Coming right now:
Jesse was lying on a bed more comfy than he had expected in front of iron bars. He tried to run his hand threw his hair, but it couldn't go threw it completely because of it was filled with knots, not that he cared about them much.
He still had a hard time figuring out if he was still dreaming.
There were no windows, he was alone here. The room was illuminated by powerful lamps. The walls were white, like a hospital, clean and smooth. The metal bars were shiny, as if someone had just used a lot of elbow grease to make them so.
He rubbed his eyes.
Behind the bars was a small space and then a door, white, like the rest.
He wasn't sure how much time had gone by; a day, weeks... No food was sent, but he could drink from a tap, and there was a shower for him to wash.
Under the white cover, Jesse wore a white cotton gown, like those you had in hospitals, he guessed. He'd entered one once for a job.
He scratched his head. His stomach protested with hunger, it was always like this. However, his body didn't seem to mind much.
The door opened and a man with broad shoulders, thick arms a bold head and dark skin came in.
"Jesse Tuck." It wasn't a question but a statement.
He came over and opened the cell's door.
"What's this?" Jesse asked. "Can I leave?"
"No, Son," the man said. "Not yet. But soon enough if you cooperate."
Jesse jumped up and marched to the door. The man stopped him going any farther by gripping his shoulder and dragging him back in front of him.
"Presmontan Lucas," he presented himself, taking Jesse's hand to shake it.
Jesse was led out of his cell in to a corridor; the walls painted black making it easy for the white clothes to be spotted.
"What's happening?" Jesse asked.
"We need you."
"Really!" Jesse exclaimed. "What for? I thought I was untrustworthy! Isn't it why you locked me up?"
"There's worse than just telling everybody that they're immortals, Lad."
"That means you've drunk from the Spring too? And stop calling me "Lad", I'm 138 years old for Goodness Sake."
"I drunk from an Oasis in Egypt, not a spring. I have the right to call you Lad, for I've lived two milliners, your boasting is no use."
Jesse stopped in his tracks. "2000 years" he told himself.
"Are you Egyptian?" Jesse asked curiously.
"It is none of your business, Lad."
Lucas opened a door on the side. Before Jesse had time too enter it, he heard a scream, an animal howl of madness.
Jesse stopped in his tracks and looked back, his ears searching for any other sound. He wondered with dread in what situation he had put himself in.
"What's the matter?" Lucas asked with a gruff voice.
"I heard someone... yelling..." he trailed off.
"You must be mistaken, I didn't hear anything."
With reluctance, Jesse entered another white room where two other persons where waiting, siting at a metallic table.
***
Winnie was still holding to her log but not as tight as before. She felt tired, weak. Her legs hurt with blisters made by the cold current and finally her arms slipped off the wood. She let herself go; unconscious that her head was under the surface of the sea and that her lungs were filled with its water.
She felt like in the arms of her mother, the water rocking her to sleep.
***
Again Jesse was sitting in front of two individuals. But these had white hoods hiding their faces.
"Number 750?" one of them asked Presmontan.
"Jesse Tuck," he told them.
Jesse grimaced: they had called him a number to recognise him.
They then turned to Jesse: "You can accept our offer as an alternative of your cell."
"I accept!" Jesse said immediately before knowing what the offer was.
One of them gave Jesse a pen and a paper with a long text, which he had to squint to read. He gave up after two lines of formalities and just put down his signature at the end of the page.
"Now what?" he asked.
"The German Empire is on the move. They have recruited, men, like us."
Jesse frowned. "People that have drunk from the spring?" he asked.
"Yes. These Immortals have infringed the rule 13, chapter 103 of the tenth constitution of our laws..."
"You have a constitution?"
"The task is simple, Number 750, you will enter out special police squad for two years. You'll be sent to the front, most likely to capture these guilty."
Jesse thought about it.
"These people, these guilty, what have they done?" he asked.
"An Immortal is of great utility in a war, an Immortal can be shot and continue their mission. They can enter a base with dynamite attached to their bodies, explode it from there, and come out of it. They can do nearly anything, they are not frightened of death."
He had only seen one person be killed, and that was for an important cause. Mae Tuck couldn't have done otherwise to stop the Man in the Yellow Suit from taking Winnie away and using her as a... He shuddered. He thought he would do the same if something happened like that again. But, these men sounded like they were paid to kill...
"Why?"
"Money, a good situation... It is no fun to spend eternal life miserable," one of the hooded person said. "Madness is also a reason. It is hard to comprehend something that is completely different from what is meant to be. Some kill because they want to know death. There is many reasons, more or less logic. We will explain, but not now."
***
The fishermen sung together pulling the nets after they'd stayed in the depths of the water all night.
They pulled it on to the deck and started untangling the fish from it and putting them in baskets. But this time they didn't only find fish, but young girl, naked, blue with cold.
***
Winnie woke up on a hard floor, vomiting all the water that had entered her lungs. Grey danced in front of her eyes. She heard deep voices. She coughed again and again making her voice raspy as she yelled where she was.
None of the fishermen understood what Winnie was trying to say, but one of them picked her up and took her to a wooden bench where he put a cover around her and forced some warmth into her body.
***
Jesse looked up at the ceiling from the top a double bed, his wrists were still handcuffed. He wore a green jumper, autumn had come with the cold wind. He felt worried and sad. His Winnie wasn't there, she'd left after their brief encounter.
One of his captives was always there, making sure that he wouldn't escape. He was now on a train going east to the "front" as the French called it. A couple of men that weren't able to fall from gunshots had been seen and they were meant to stop them.
What he had to do, in group was to encircle one of these "Castallians" as they were called and needle them down with nets an other and then transport them to the nearest "camp" where they would be seen to. He wondered what you could do to an immortal that was "mad". The ones that had killed for money would be incarcerated for a while, given enough money to not need to kill anymore and that would be it. But the ones that weren't able to change, what happened to them?
"They" had refused to tell. Jesse wondered if it had to do with the awful scream, five days ago when he had just got out of his cell. It still made him shiver, thinking about it.
It looked like that she had drunk from the Spring in her twenties. Jesse thought that she hadn't drank for him, after all.
There was no reproach in his thoughts towards Winnie, but towards himself. For have been stupid of letting her on her own for so long, when he could have turned up, seven years after they had first met... He shook his head, telling himself to not dream too much about what could have been.
By night, he had other kind of dreams. His mind was tortured about the people aboard the boat that had been taking them to France, he didn't think it necessary. In many nightmares, he was with them, dying in flame and water.
Hate slowly spread in his mind.
But what he had decided now, was to search for Winnie. He wouldn't wait and help turn down these Castallians. He would escape and search for her. He would be out there, looking for her, and nothing else. He was so worried for her, she could be anywhere out there, maybe still in the sea. But alive, that was for sure.
He got down of the buck bed. Lucas Pressmontan was lying on the bed underneath Jesse's.
"You talk in your sleep, Lad."
Jesse didn't remember sleeping just now. But Dread took him, wondering if he had told too much of his plan.
"Who's Little Winnie Foster?" he asked.
"It's none of your business," Jesse put the same words as Lucas's in his mouth.
"You better tell me, or we'll take you back to your cell," the big man threatened.
Jesse sat down on a chair and tried to cross his arms in a suborn manner, but handcuffs stopped him. Instead he just let them hang..
"In you file there is nothing about a Winnie Foster," Lucas said. "Now, spit it out."
Jesse didn't say anything.
"Never mind, I was just trying to speed things up, I've already sent the name to "Home" for my "comrades" to find out."
"Home" was were they had left, the place where they had put Jesse, with white rooms and black corridors.
Jesse swallowed hard. How much had he been talking in his sleep?
***
Winnie had been given a cup of steaming milk. She was now slowly sipping it.
She wore a woolly shirt. The thought that the fishermen had seen her naked didn't make her blush all feel ashamed, she just didn't care, there more important things.
For her, Jesse was lost. He must have sunk to the bottom of the sea. She would never see him again. She had lost her husband, son, and friend, all in a couple of days. She had even lost her clothes. She only had flesh and bones with the goodness of the French fishermen.
However, she had finally reached France.
There we are, this is a bit shorter, I confess. But I couldn't mention anything else or it wouldn't have been a real chapter, I mean...
Anyway, holiday was great, and it's hard to get back to work for school.... I can't promise anything for the two next days, that's for sure.
Anyway, hope you enjoyed it!!!
Thanks again for the REVIEWS!!! Your great!!!! It only makes me more want to write!!!! I might as well remind you that REVIEWS are my favourite treats, I never can have enough. So, if it's your day of kindness, it's welcome!!!
Ps: thanks for mentioning it, HAA, You're right, Presmontan is play on words, in french Pres: phonetically comes from the verb "Presser" which means to squeeze or to speed up, and "montan" is "mon temps" = my time. The name goes with the man, if you know what I mean.
Yes, there hasn't been many chapters up lately, huh? Well, I hope by over reading my work, adding a few things here and there, taking some off will make you appreciate it more. (I did awful grammar mistakes and other... and I don't find it too nice when I read stuff that like that, it can screw up the effects you would like give... I've tried to work on that... it's still not perfect, I agree) But you can give me your opinion by just REVIEWING!!! cio