Children Shouldn't Live Like This – Chapter 2
"For God's sake Enjolras, stop pacing and sit down. You're giving us all a headache."
Completely absorbed in his work scrawled on the makeshift blackboard in the café, Enjolras ignored Marius' request and continued pacing, muttering to himself as new ideas sprung to his head. Every few minutes, he snatched up a piece of chalk and made an assortment of fresh scribbles, then swore under his breath as he erased said fresh idea impatiently with his coat sleeve. Behind him sat Marius, who watched bemusedly as he sipped from his mug.
"Seriously, give it a rest, Enjolras. There's no deadline for this plan of yours, there's no need to stress yourself out unnecessarily as of yet."
Upon hearing his words, Enjolras halted his frenzied pacing and turned to face his friend, speaking with an irritated tone of voice that mirrored his scribbling.
"The key point is that this will happen eventually, Marius. I trusted that you'd understand this when we started the Les Amis. At some point we, the students, will have to act, to stand up for the people, to bear arms. And I'll be damned if we're not ready when the time comes, whenever it-"
"Okay! Okay, Enjolras," Marius hastily rose both hands as he attempted to pacify his frustrated friend. "We'll be ready when the time comes, for sure. Just take a seat and get a drink. You look like you've been through twenty revolutions and died that number of times already."
Enjolras grimaced as he took in Marius' words. Tossing the chalk in his hands onto the table, he sank heavily into the seat offered to him, raising a weary hand to signal to the barman. Smiling at his minor success, Marius raised his mug to his lips yet again as he spoke absentmindedly to the other person seated directly next to him.
"Quite exciting, isn't it, Grantaire? Grantaire?"
Getting no response, Marius turned to his left and groaned at the sight of Grantaire slumped over at the table, fast asleep. Three empty mugs, as of yet uncollected by the Café staff, sat in front of his unconscious form. Marius confirmed his mental absence by prodding him violently with the same chalk that Enjolras had previously used on the blackboard, to no avail.
"Monsieur Grantaire will get himself into a plethora of health problems if he doesn't lay off the drinks."
Marius turned and grinned at the other student sitting directly across him at the table. Joly practiced medicine, a far cry from his own study of law, but the two had always gotten along exceptionally well, frequently pairing up to make jokes at their friends' expense. A whimsical thought arose in his head. Joly, as though reading Marius' mind through the change in his facial expression, chuckled as he leant forward over the table.
"I don't think Enjolras would appreciate what I think you have in mind, Marius. Our friend is much too caught up with thoughts of the revolution to participate in our usual banter today."
Enjolras raised his head, looked to and fro between his two friends, and muttered.
"You two freak me out."
The two snickered at the comment.
Just as Enjolras had obtained another full mug from the Café waitress, a loud shout from the street caught the attention of every person sitting in the café.
"JOLY!"
Marius hastily sat his mug down onto the table, a worried expression taking shape on his face as he took in the silhouette of a man with a bundle of cloth in his arms, taking difficult but rapid steps through the thick snow towards the café. Enjolras frowned as he paid the waitress and pushed his full mug to the side of the table, drink forgotten. Grantaire, finally woken by the loud shout, smacked his head painfully on the edge of the table in a manner that would have been comical if the atmosphere had not turned tense. Rubbing his forehead, Grantaire winced.
"What the…what the hell was that?"
"JOLY!"
Upon hearing his name for the second time, Joly rose to his feet, accidentally knocking his jacket from the back of the chair to the floor just as the silhouette stepped into the café. The light from the café lit up said silhouette. Joly's eyes widened as he took in the disturbing sight. Their fellow student, Courfeyrac, stood before them with fresh snow in his hair and on his shoulders, his coat messily wrapped around a large bundle of rags. Joly's doctor instincts kicked into play as he spotted Courfeyrac's hands, which were drenched in an ominously familiar red liquid.
"Courfeyrac, speak to us."
Their friend looked terribly distraught, wheezing a little as he tried to catch his breath. The sight of their usually cheerful friend looking so terrified was disconcerting to the four students. Even Grantaire seemed to have sobered within seconds, a commendable feat.
"Are you hurt?"
Having finally caught his breath, Courfeyrac spoke in a voice more serious than any of them had ever heard from his throat.
"It's not me."
Quickly moving to an empty table, Courfeyrac placed the large bundle down. Only then did Joly realize that most of the blood appeared to be on the rags instead of Courfeyrac himself. Aside from his bloody hands, the student seemed to be unhurt. As Courfeyrac rapidly undid the bundle, he spoke incoherently.
"I found him a few streets away in the snow. It's falling so fast that it almost covered him completely. I wouldn't have spotted him if it were for all the blood. God, there was so much blood…"
Enjolras rose to his feet.
"Him? What are you-"
As Courfeyrac finally removed his own coat from the top of the bundle, the entire café fell silent for a second time that night. Joly didn't waste a second, immediately striding forward to the table and doing a basic inspection. Marius rose to his feet as well, staring down at the bundle's contents in alarm. Grantaire remained seated, suddenly overwhelmed by nausea that was, for once, not a result of his drinking binge.
"God."
As Joly worked feverishly behind the closed bedroom door, the other four students sat in the small living room, listening to Courfeyrac's tale. The room had not been used for ages, a slightly overpriced guesthouse above the café, the closest possible venue the students could think of as a location where Joly could do what he had to do. The atmosphere within the room was tense and gloomy.
"…so I wrapped him in my coat and a couple of rags that I was bringing from my sister's place to keep him warm. He was so damn cold that I could see that he had turned blue even beneath all the blood on his face-"
"You need to calm down, Courfeyrac." Marius placed a hand on Courfeyrac's shoulder. "That was pretty quick thinking, what you did. If you didn't wrap him up he might have gotten far worse. You did the right thing."
Courfeyrac ran his hands through his hair distractedly, as though to exercise off his nervous energy.
"I just don't understand, Marius. I just don't…understand how someone could have-"
"-done that to a child."
All eyes turned to Grantaire, who was surprisingly abstemious despite the fourth mug of alcohol in his hand. His eyes darkened as he raised the glass to his mouth, his words full of venom as he spat.
"Whoever did that is a cruel, cruel bastard."
It was unfamiliar for Marius to observe his friend uttering a coherent sentence despite being chugged full with spirits, but he decided to chalk it up to the shock from what they had observed just minutes ago. Enjolras stood away from the group, looking out of the window distractedly as he analyzed the night sky, which was still pouring white. He then spoke.
"Any idea which family he's from? His name?"
Courfeyrac looked at Enjolras.
"No clue."
Marius seemed to fall into deep thought.
"He was dressed in rags, though. He might have been one of those…street urchins, you know? Children that wander the streets without a proper home. I don't know why anybody would hurt a kid that badly. He seems completely harmless."
Enjolras swallowed. As the thought of what he had been preparing for over the past year flew back swiftly into his consciousness, he was suddenly filled with an unexplainable anger. It was no surprise to anyone that the lowest class of society, stricken with poverty, would do anything, even strike down those who couldn't fight back, to ensure their own survival.
And the rich sleep peacefully in their beds.
The thought was enough to hurt him down to his core.
"Paris has fallen into a terrible state."
Before anyone else could comment on Enjolras' ominous statement, the bedroom door flew open. Enjolras, Marius, Grantaire and Courfeyrac rose simultaneously, anxious to hear good news about their unknown young charge, but worried at the grave expression on Joly's face. As the medical student wiped his bloodstained hands with a spare piece of cloth, he looked into his friends' eyes, took a calming breath and spoke, taking considerable effort to steady his voice.
"Broken left leg at two sections, firstly an impact fracture at the femur, secondly another impact fracture at the tibia. Cracked collarbone. Broken right arm, likely caused by direct impact from a heavy object. Large head wound on forehead, likely caused by a sharp object, perhaps broken glass. That one caused most of the blood loss. Worst injury caused by three broken ribs, one of which, I think, has punctured his right lung. He's still breathing, but just barely. He's moderately hypothermic, as you all see earlier, I believe, from his bluish skin. You probably saved his life there just now, Courfeyrac. If he had been exposed to the cold any longer he would definitely have perished."
Trying to get into a steadfast mindset and ignoring the appalled expressions on the faces of his friends, Joly snatched up his coat from the table.
"I understand that this is quite horrible, but I need your help. I need to return to the university hospital and pick up some supplies to fix him up, or else he won't survive the night. Anesthetic, blood, bandages, basic operating equipment. Only two of you need to follow me. The remaining two…" he paused as he buttoned up his coat. "…can remain here with Gavroche."
Marius raised an eyebrow.
"Gavroche?"
"His name was sewn on the back of his shirt. Now could we please hurry?"
Enjolras stepped forward and snatched up his own coat, speaking with resolution.
"I'll follow you to the hospital. Marius?"
"Lead the way, Joly."
Joly smiled.
"Thank you. Courfeyrac, Grantaire, I've bandaged up his head wound and stopped the bleeding for the moment, but I haven't worked with his bones as of yet. Try not to move him further, or it might aggravate his condition. If he wakes, and he just might, talk to him and calm him down."
"You have our word, Joly."
"Merci."
As the three students dashed down the staircase to the café, Courfeyrac remembered an important detail and stuck his head out of the door, shouting to their doctor.
"Oi! Joly! What if he stops breathing?"
Joly paused his race down the steps and turned his head to face his friend, a grim expression gracing his tired features.
"Let's hope it doesn't come down to that."
In the blink of an eye, he was gone.
Author's Note – Very quick update from me here, please don't expect this so much, I can only update so quickly during the weekend. I've been wondering how I'm going to pace and story and how to spread it out over the different chapters. So far I've considered writing chapters that are relatively moderate in size so you guys can obtain more content at quicker intervals.
Reviews please.