Remember how I said there were ten chapters left some 11 chapters ago? Yeah, well...there's more :) A few more loose ends and Kire will get there, I promise.
106
Numbness washed over me. I stared at Julia for a long moment, her words refusing to sink in.
"When?" I hoarsely asked.
Julia managed to catch her breath. "Thirty minutes ago?" She sniffled and Madeline protectively wrapped her arms around my wife and stroked her hair.
"How horrible," Madeline said gently.
"Did you see the building?" I asked.
"From a distance, yes. I was at the market and there was a tremendous boom. It sounded like thunder, but the ground shook and I heard people screaming moments later," Julia continued. Her lips quivered, her eyes filled with tears again. "Then everything happened so fast. Carriages and carts nearly collided in the streets, women grabbed their children and took off running in one direction while a few men began to head toward the fire house. Once I reached the end of our street, I asked a gentleman what had happened and he said the roof caved in at the shoe factory."
I worked my jaw in silence and nodded.
"Was there a fire?" Phelan calmly asked.
Julia swallowed. "There was smoke to the north, but I couldn't tell for certain." She turned to me, her bottom lip quivering. "Erik, was Claude working today?"
I shifted my weight. "I'm not certain," I said, hoping to ease her worry despite knowing full well he had been there since six in the morning.
"Pray to God he was not inside the building."
I looked away from her. "He was not inside," I said firmly. He could not be inside, trapped beneath the rubble. Selfishly I would not accept that he was injured or worse. I refused to believe that our last conversation had taken place the previous night and amends could not be made.
"He's at home resting," I said more to myself than to the rest of the people standing in my foyer. "He was exhausted when he left last night and had far too much on his mind."
Julia stared at me through glassy eyes and slowly nodded, but I could tell by her expression that she didn't believe a word I said. "What should we do?" she whispered.
"Wait until more reliable news is made available," Phelan suggested. "There is no need to fear the worst when you've no idea if part of the roof came down or the entire roof collapsed, nor whether or not any of the workers were inside when the incident occured."
Julia reluctantly nodded. She blinked at my brother as though his presence finally registered. "Phelan, I had no idea you were returning to Paris so soon."
"An unannounced visit, my dear sister."
"Has Alex seen you?" Julia asked.
"My beloved nephew has not-"
"Uncle Phelan!" Alex yelled well before he raced through the back door and bolted through the kitchen. "Are you still here? Please say you are still here and not back in Belgium!"
My brother clasped his hands behind his back and smiled to himself. "Alex, I suggest you walk like a civilized young man."
Alex skidded to a stop halfway down the hall and walked as fast as he could toward the foyer, his face bright red and smile beaming. In one hand he still held his notebook for his lessons with his pencil tucked behind his ear and barely visible beneath his thick hair.
"Did you receive my letters?" he breathlessly asked. "I apologize for being winded. I ran as fast as I could when I heard you were visiting."
"Yes, I see that you have been running," Phelan said sternly. "And I do believe I received zero letters from you and fourteen from your father."
Alex's eyes bulged and lips parted in horror. "You are mistaken, Uncle Phelan. I wrote to you seventeen times."
"Seventeen?" all of the adults present said in unison.
Alex shrugged. "I sent you three letters yesterday, but I suppose those have not arrived yet."
Phelan gave his nephew an appreciative smile and nod. "My replies to all fourteen letters are in the parlor if you would be so kind as to retrieve my suitcase."
Alex grinned. He dashed down the hall and wheeled into the parlor, appearing a moment later lugging the suitcase down the hall runner.
"Did you pack an elephant?" Alex groaned.
"How did you guess?" Phelan dryly replied.
A horse-drawn cart from the fire house bumbled past, the driver ringing a bell to clear the road ahead. Alex glanced toward the window briefly before he dropped to his knees and pushed the suitcase onto its side. He popped both latches and flung the case open with such enthusiasm I was amazed clothing didn't explode from the open case.
"The letters are on the side," Phelan said, gesturing toward the collection of envelopes bound in twine.
Alex used both hands to remove the letters from their snug place tucked against the inside of the suitcase and tightly packed clothing. He hugged the papers to his chest as though he had received a great treasure while carefully closing the suitcase once more. Phelan stepped on the corner to make it easier to secure the first latch.
"May I read them now?"
Phelan raised a brow. "Would you rather visit with your uncle or read letters?"
Alex smiled. "Yes, of course they can wait." He stepped forward and flung one arm around my brother. "You must meet my Aunt Meg and my Uncle Charles. And my cousins Audrey and Xavier, but they are both babies, so they will not know who you are. Have you ever met twins before, Uncle Phelan?"
"I have."
Alex took a deep breath and paused, seemingly aware of the alarms for the first time. "Are the bells ringing because you are here?"
Phelan offered a closed-lip smile. "I do not believe so, favorite nephew."
Alex furrowed his brow. He turned and peered through the window. "What do you suppose is happening?"
"Nothing," Madeline said sharply. "You should return to your studies and not concern yourself."
"I've completed my assignments, Grand-mere," Alex answered, oblivious to her tone.
Phelan placed his hand on his nephew's shoulder. "No one is certain what has happened yet, Alex."
"It sounds very serious. I hope no one is injured," Alex whispered.
"So do we," Julia said gently.
"Father, do you think Claude will come to supper tonight?"
"He didn't say."
"I hope he does."
I forced a smile for Alex's sake. "I'm certain he will come around when he is able."
OoO
Madeline and Charles apparently knew half the population of Paris, and by sunset, the two of them had been in contact with numerous colleagues and friends regarding the roof's collapse.
"There are two lists," Madeline gravely explained from where we had gathered in the Lowrys' parlor. She sat beside Charles and the two of them exchanged frowns, which did nothing to lessen my already anxious state.
"One list is of recovered individuals, separated into survivors and perished," Charles explained. "The other is of the people still missing."
"He was not on either list," Madeline added. "But it appears he was there at the start of the work day according to one of the supervisors."
"Then he has not been found and no one is looking for him," I muttered.
The room fell silent. Madeline averted her eyes and Charles pursed his lips and picked lint off his trouser leg.
"Such a shame," Charles said under his breath. "He was a very talented young man."
"And very polite," Madeline added.
"For God's sake," Phelan grumbled. He abruptly stood and crossed the room.
"Are you leaving, Monsieur?" Charles asked before Phelan exited the parlor.
"I am," my brother answered. "Monsieur Lowry, it has been an absolute pleasure speaking with you today, but there should be at least one person looking for Claude Gillis rather than hosting a memorial before confirmation of his untimely demise." His slate gray eyes cut to me. "Are you coming with me or staying here, Kire?"
OoO
Phelan made no attempt to wait for me to answer. By the time I excused myself from the parlor, he had hailed a cab as the industrial district was a much further distance than either of us wished to travel.
"You are quiet," Phelan observed after several minutes of traveling north through the city. His features were tense, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. I couldn't tell if he was worried for Claude's well being or if it was his normal demeanor to seem inconvenienced.
"I am thinking."
"Pessimistic thoughts, no doubt."
I eyed my brother briefly in the darkness of the carriage. "Claude could be alive and suffering beneath debris or dead upon impact," I said. "I suppose the latter is the kinder outcome."
Phelan stared out the window. "Are those truly the only options? Immense suffering or death?"
"He should not have been there," I mumbled.
"At the place of his employment? Why ever not?"
I pulled up my mask and rubbed my face. "He had taken on extra hours in hopes of being able to raise his sister. She has been living in a home for girls since their mother died six years ago."
Phelan turned to look at me. "How old is his sister?"
"Nine."
"They have been apart since the girl was three?"
My jaw clenched. "Yes," I answered.
"I would say that I cannot imagine how difficult it has been for the two of them, but I absolutely can imagine."
"There is a possibility his sister Apolline may be arriving via rail in a matter of days."
Phelan fell silent for a long moment and ran his thumb down his chin. "What happens to the girl if Claude is no longer alive?"
My hands balled into fists, my heart aching as I imagined this child arriving in an unfamiliar city, hopeful to be reunited with her brother at last only to be told she was truly an orphan, alone and unwanted.
"Would she return to the home?" Phelan asked when I didn't readily supply an answer.
"No," I said sharply.
"Does she have any other living relatives?"
"An uninvolved father who has had no contact with either of his children."
Phelan exhaled. "Then what will become of-"
"I've no idea," I tersely answered. "Assume I know nothing at all."
"I suppose until Claude is found there is no need to discuss her fate."
"Her fate," I muttered, lowering my mask into place. "I fear in my attempt to improve her life and that of her brother's I have made it worse."
Phelan sat back and tapped his fingers together. "You didn't cause the roof to collapse," he pointed out.
"No, but I set into motion her arrival to Paris."
"I would hope that the institution where she has resided for the last six years would understand if Claude is unable to accept her given the unusual circumstances."
"The home is not sending her voluntarily. Raoul de Chagny is placing her on the train at my suggestion."
Phelan lifted a brow. "Your sense of humor is most peculiar, Kire."
"It's not a jest," I muttered.
The carriage rolled to a stop and Phelan gave me one last, long look before we both exited across the street from the factory and surveyed our surroundings. There was a white tent set up near the corner of the street where two men stood smoking and a woman sat on a bench with her arms folded and head bowed.
Not only had the roof apparently caved in, but the windows on both the first and second floor had completely blown out and the iron lintel across the front entrance had bowed with the weight of the building's compromised integrity. The smell of chemicals used to tan the leather stung my nose and I momentarily held my breath while looking the building over.
"It doesn't appear safe," Phelan commented as we watched two men with lanterns enter the building followed by two men in dust-covered overalls exit and remove their work gloves. They headed toward the tent where they ducked inside and were followed by the woman.
The two men who had entered the building appeared a moment later frantically waving their hands and calling for help. The men who had entered the tent dashed back out followed by two women clutching one another.
"We found someone alive!" one of the men bellowed. "Quickly!"
Phelan glanced at me from the corner of his eye before he strolled across the street with his hands in his pockets. I followed behind him, my heart beating wildly as we approached the building.
"Where were they found?" a man asked.
"Southwest corner. The back room."
All four men disappeared into the building, lantern light bobbing through the shadows with their every step. Another man dashed around the corner, pulling heavy leather gloves on as he ran toward the building. Before he disappeared through the doorway, the man paused and met my eye.
"Monsieur Kire?"
I stared back at him. "Fayette?"
Immediately the burly young man who had delivered our weekly market goods nodded and grinned. "You remembered me."
"Of course," I replied. It would have been nearly impossible to forget someone of his stature. He was built like a bull with the jovial disposition of a puppy.
Fayette looked from me to my brother. "You are…"
"Phelan Kimmer. His brother."
Fayette's grin widened. "A pleasure, Monsieur Kimmer. I am Paulo Fayette. What are the two of you doing on this side of the city? Are you here to volunteer your services?"
"We are looking for someone named Claude Gillis. He is employed here," I said.
"I don't believe he has been recovered from the building yet."
"But someone has been found alive?" Phelan inquired impatiently.
"Yes, it sounds that way. Third one since nightfall." Fayette pointed toward the tent. "We have recovered twelve people so far of a presumed fifteen that are missing, but three did not survive and one is...not doing well from what I understand."
"How long have you been here?" I asked.
"Since I put my horse away at three this afternoon. Part of the inner wall gave way a few hours ago and made it much harder to recover the missing, but none of us are willing to give up yet." He peered through the doorway when someone shouted his name and then back at my brother. "Excuse me, gentlemen, time is of the essence."
We watched him walk inside, carefully navigating a narrow path between mounds of bricks and debris until he disappeared behind a wall lined with various large machinery and smashed wooden crates.
"Mademoiselle!" Phelan shouted to the young woman near the tent. "Might you have spare gloves?"
"What are you doing?" I asked under my breath.
"Would you prefer standing around?" Phelan asked.
The woman disappeared inside of the tent and appeared a moment later with two pairs of gloves in hand. The sleeves of her blouse up to her elbows were smeared with what I suspected was blood and her face had tracks of tears through the dust and dirt that had settled on her flesh.
"Be careful, please. There has already been far too many deaths today," the woman warned before she spun on her heel and returned to her duties within the tent.
We pulled our gloves on and Phelan led the way toward the lantern light and voices toward the back of the building. The ground that had been cleared of debris was slick with oil and my brother nearly lost his footing twice before we rounded the corner and entered a smaller back room crowded with machinery, mounds of brick, clay and splintered wood. The men we had seen enter the building stood tossing debris into a wagon outside of an open door that had been removed from its hinges.
"You should not be in here, gentlemen," Fayette said over his shoulder once he noticed the two of us had entered the building. "It is too dangerous."
"Nonsense," Phelan commented. He picked up a brick and tossed it into the bed of a wagon. "I've been in much more dangerous situations."
"Have you?" I asked, following his lead and picking up two bricks.
"Bangladesh," my brother answered.
Our eyes met briefly in the lantern light as the rest of the men continued to furiously remove the bricks.
"Say something if you are still alive," one of the men said.
"I'm alive, I'm alive, please do not leave me," the frantic voice of a young girl begged. The sound of her voice reminded me of Lisette, who was most likely curled up in her favorite chair with Aria in her lap and Bessie at her feet.
"What is your name?" Fayette asked.
"Terese," she answered.
"Terese, I am Paulo. Many of my friends are here to help you. If we are doing anything to hurt you, will you let me know?"
"Yes." Her voice sounded distant and breathy.
"Was there anyone in here with you when the roof collapsed?" I asked.
"No. Yes! I don't remember, it was days ago."
"How old are you, Terese?" Fayette asked.
"I am seven," she answered. "Almost eight."
The men paused briefly before all six of us began furiously removing the bricks. Within minutes the wagon was nearly filled and the driver moved the horse from the back entrance where the cart was replaced with an empty one pulled by a mule.
"A girl of seven," Phelan said under his breath as we waited for the next wagon to be secured with logs behind the wheels. "What business does a child of her age have in a place such as this?"
"There are many children her age employed here. Better to work for your supper than starve," one of the other men answered before the task resumed.
"I see her leg," Fayette said. He dug faster through the rubble and I stepped back as two other men who were nearly as massive as Paulo scooped up copper ceiling tiles and broken pieces of brick and tossed them aside as if they were mere pebbles.
The heel of my boot stepped onto something softer than brick and I heard a muffled groan in response. "There is someone else here," I said as I turned and nearly hit my forehead on a splintered wooden beam.
"Lan," I started to say as I grabbed a brick where my foot had been and uncovered a swollen, bloodied hand in a tightly held fist.
"I see."
We were too far from the open doorway to work efficiently as the other men, and every few moments we were forced to walk several steps and dispose of the debris before returning to the pile.
"We've almost got her," one man said. From the corner of my eye I saw him nod at Fayette, who turned and wordlessly came to our aid just as the men managed to remove the bricks pinning the child face-down to the floor.
"Hello? Are you still with us?" Fayette asked.
There was no verbal answer, but the hand beside my foot uncurled its tightly held fingers and attempted to find something other than bricks to grasp.
"He's still alive," I answered on the victim's behalf.
"Stay that way," one of the other men mumbled.
"Look," Fayette said, pointing from the beam behind me to the ground. "The rest of this must be under the tile. I cannot move this beam alone if he is pinned beneath it."
"What about sawing it in half?" Phelan asked.
A piece of tile clattered from far above, tumbling along the inner brick wall before it struck the ground.
"There isn't enough time for that," one of the other men replied.
Behind us, one of the men swept up the child, who was finally free, and she immediately began weeping, her howls of anguish and fear echoing through the small room. The hairs on my arms raised and I felt my throat tighten in response to her reaction of being recovered.
"Get her to the medical tent," Fayette ordered. "And check the list for her name."
Within moments she was removed from the building, and the rest of us began digging out the second person still trapped beneath the beam, which was over his chest and shoulders.
"No wonder he cannot speak," Phelan said. "I'm amazed he is able to breathe beneath all of this rubble."
"Let us pray we are able to get him out of here before he suffocates," Fayette muttered.
Half the bricks and tile we tossed missed the wagon, but no one said a word as they landed in the dirt outside of the door. We managed to uncover the man's lower half first, his left foot pinned at a painfully unnatural position and his right leg bleeding above the knee where a nail had punctured the flesh through his ripped trousers.
Agonizing moments ticked by as the rubbish was removed bit by bit. Dust from overhead rained down upon us while several larger pieces of the building fell and ricocheted off the wall and into the piles of rubbish.
"We don't have much time," Phelan said. "The rest of the building might collapse at any moment."
Beneath the mound of debris, the man struggled, legs flailing. "Please do not leave me," he sobbed, his voice strained. "Please don't let me die here. I beg of you, please don't leave me like this."
"Claude?" I questioned.
"Yes," he answered. "Who is there?"
I needed no further confirmation. The entire building could have been engulfed in flames and I would not have noticed. I managed to uncover Claude's face and torso until all that remained was the beam that prevented him from moving. He looked utterly terrified, his eyes wide, brows and lashes covered in brick dust and hair red with his own sticky blood.
"Monsieur Kire?" he whispered despite his labored breaths. "Have I died? Is this a dream, Monsieur?"
"Save your strength," I told him.
His eyes fluttered shut, tears freely streaming from the corners while his lips trembled.
"We lift the beam, you grab his legs and move him," Fayette ordered as he nodded to me and my brother.
I turned to Phelan, who had already bent to grab Claude by the right leg. A piece of brick the size of a walnut struck him in the temple and he cursed under his breath.
"What are you waiting for, Fayette? Move the damned beam before we're all trapped in here, you fool!" Phelan growled. "Kire! Grab his leg at once."
Both the men and the splintered beam groaned as the wood was lifted and we managed to grip Claude's trousers and yank him free from where he was pinned. His chin hit the bottom of the wood plank, teeth cutting his lip in the process. His mouth filled with blood and debris that continued to trickle down from the ceiling and he let loose a sound of terror that was more feral creature than human.
In a frantic blur, Fayette and the other two men who had managed to lift the beam dropped it and I saw Fayette roughly grab Claude by the arms and tossed him over his shoulder as though he were no bigger than the girl who had been recovered.
"Kire, get out of here at once." Phelan shoved me forward and out of the door where I stumbled and lost my footing, falling into the weeds and several bricks that had missed the wagon. I turned back, seeing the debris fall in sizable chunks through a thick cloud of dust, but not my brother.
"Lan!" I shouted.
The ground beneath me rumbled. I started to climb to my feet, certain Phelan had not followed me out of the doorway before more of the ceiling collapsed. My heart sank, hands shaking as I prepared to tunnel my way through the blocked doorway in search of my brother.
"No," I whispered. "No, not like this."
The dust in my eyes and lungs made it impossible to see or breathe. Blindly I stepped forward, coughing into the crook of my elbow and desperate to find Phelan.
"Not like what, Kire?" Phelan groused from the other side of the wagon. He sucked in a breath and coughed with such force that I thought he would gag.
I wiped my eyes and found him on his back, arms and legs splayed and temple streaming with blood from the brick that had hit him. His eyes were open, but unblinking, and had his chest not been heaving, I would have thought his final words were speaking my name rather crossly.
"Lan?"
"Yes, yes, little brother. You and your splendid, heroic ideas of entering a building on the verge of collapse," he said with a sigh as he sat up and groaned.
"None of this was my idea," I said.
"Do you honestly wish to argue at a time like this?" Gingerly he touched his head and winced. "How bad is it?"
"I don't believe you will need your head amputated, if that was your concern."
At last he grunted and smiled up at me. "What a pity. My students would surely have appreciated a headless professor."
I extended my hand and helped him to his feet where he pulled off his gloves and brushed dust from his clothing.
"Are you unscathed?" he asked once he gave up on properly cleaning his shirt and trousers.
"Thanks to you shoving me from the building, I believe so."
"It was my sincere pleasure to push you. From harm's way, of course."
"Indeed." I started to hand him my handkerchief, but instead folded the cloth and asked him to lift his chin. I blotted the wound to his temple and he grimaced, his eyes glassy and cast off to the side. His bottom lip quivered, and I feared I did more harm than good despite the cut not being particularly deep.
"I apologize if this is uncomfortable," I said quietly. "If you would prefer the medical tent…"
Phelan shook his head, then threw his arms around me and engulfed me in an unexpected hug. I heard him swallow and felt a shudder ripple through him before he patted my back and released me.
"As much as I prefer you as my nurse, that is quite enough excitement for one evening, Kire. Now, if you wouldn't mind, I would like nothing more than to sit for a moment and appreciate the fact that we are, quite astoundingly, still alive."
