The Lost Princess [Hamliza Anastasia AU]

Chapter Two: A Backfiring Truck And Someone Else's Plan

Sunday, February 20, 1927. Georgetown, New York.

The light was slowly fading from the sky as Beth pushed her broom across the street. She shivered in the chill wind and pulled her coat closer around her body. I can see why the only job I could get was as a street sweeper, she thought. I can't see why anyone would want to do this. 

A soldier was standing guard on the corner, red uniform bright against the drab colors that most of the other people were wearing. All the military police and soldiers wore red nowadays (because according to General Secretary Fredrick, red was patriotic, and everything should be patriotic, so everything should be red), earning them the name redcoats. Glancing away from him, Eliza focused on sweeping the sticks and leaves covering the sidewalk into a neat pile. 

Without warning, a sharp crack split the air. Pure panic spiked in Beth's mind, and she dropped to the ground, visions of men in blue uniforms and blood hovering before her eyes, and the sound of screams echoing in her ears. 

Someone placed a hand on her shoulder and Beth sat up, shaking away the strange images. Whether they were from her past life, whatever it had been, or simply something conjured up by her mind, she wasn't sure. There in front of her was the soldier from the corner. He was young, only a few years older than her, and he was holding her broom in one hand. 

"It was just a truck backfiring, comrade," He reassured Beth, helping her to her feet. Once she was standing again, she expected him to back off, but the man kept holding both her arms. "You're still shaking," he said, and she saw real concern in his blue eyes.

"There's a tea shop just down the road, we could-" he started to say, but Beth grabbed her broom from him. Something in that vision had awakened a fear in her. Not of this man specifically, she had never met him before, but others like him. Soldiers who could look you in the eyes and... the memory slipped through her fingers and Beth realized he was speaking again.

"I can't lose this job. They're not easy to come by," She blurted out, hurrying down the street.

"I'm here every day!" He called after her, but Beth ignored him. She had to get away from the cold fear and the confusing might-be-memories.There was only one thing she was sure of, and it was that she had to get to Philadelphia. For that, Beth needed money, and for that, she needed a job. 

After a block or two, she stopped and continued to sweep the streets, trying to calm her breathing. Beth found comfort in the repetitive motion of the broom as she thought back over her life, trying to see if she could remember anything before that day. 

Ten years ago, she had woken up in a hospital with no memories of the first eight years of her life besides the words "meet me in Philadelphia." The nurses had been very nice, naming her Bethany (although she preferred to go by Beth) and taking care of her. As much as she liked the nurses however, Beth had always longed to find out the truth about who she really was. So, after turning what everyone guessed was eighteen, she had set out to make her way to Philadelphia and find whoever was waiting for her there.

Beth had a scarily vague plan. Go to Georgetown, get a job, earn money, leave New York and travel to Philadelphia, then go to the bridge that haunted her dreams. She didn't know how she would obtain exit papers, or how she would find the bridge when she didn't even know it's name, or what she would do if the person she was looking for didn't show up, but she would figure it out. One way or another Beth would find her family.

---

Beth sat down on a bench, and pulled out the money she had been saving carefully for a month at her street sweeping job. She counted it twice, her smile growing. If she left right away, she should have enough to get to Philadelphia. Since all thirty eight of the American Kingdoms used the same currency, there was no worry about exchange messing with her sums. 

There was, however, one massive problem that was currently eclipsing all others. Beth didn't have any exit papers, and there was no way for her to get them. She had no birth certificate or any of the other legal papers that were necessary for the government to even consider approving her request. Crossing the border on her own wasn't an option either. It was guarded. 

As much as the thought of doing anything that illegal scared her, Beth knew there was only one option left to her. She had to find someone to forge her exit papers. Thankfully, she knew where to go. The gossip network in Georgetown flourished on the streets, and Beth spent all day on the streets.

Stuffing the money back into her pocket, Beth drew her coat close around her and headed toward the bad part of town.  Everything illegal flourished in the neighborhoods around the old theater. From the black market to assassins for hire, if the law frowned on it, it could be found here. 

Beth glanced around, making sure to steer clear of the more shady looking types, and looked for someone who a) looked somewhat trustworthy and b)might actually know where to find a reliable forger. All around her, people were yelling, advertising their products, probably all stolen or contraband. The idea of advertising so publicly seemed unsafe, but when everyone did it, the redcoats were powerless to put an end to the problem. As much as they would love to carry out mass arrests based only on rumor, they knew they couldn't do it without inciting a riot, and so illegal trades were able to flourish as long as there was no concrete evidence against them. 

A young man with dark blonde hair, freckles, and a wide grin was cutting his way through the crowd, clutching a bag close to his chest. Something about his open, friendly looking face gave Beth confidence. Putting on a confident smile of her own, she walked up to him. 

"Excuse me sir?" She said, and the man turned to face her.

"Are you here about the auditions?" He asked. "I didn't think Alex had said anything."

Beth had absolutely know idea what he was talking about. "Um, no. I actually have a different question. Say someone was looking to leave the country, would you happen to know how a person could obtain exit papers to do that?" It was a safe question. If he was a loyal comrade, he would give her some nonsense about going to the right office, but if he wasn't, she could be out within a few days.

The freckled man stared at her for a minute, probably assessing her own trustworthiness, then said. "I know a guy, actually. Alexander's his name. I'll give you his address." The man pulled a piece of paper and pencil stub from his pocket, scribbled something on it, then handed it to Beth. "I'd get over there in the next few days," he told her. "Alexander's planning to pack up shop, if you know what I mean."

"Thank you so much," Beth told him, taking the paper and hurrying off. Glancing up at the nearly dark sky, she knew it was too late to visit this Alexander today, but she would go first thing in the morning. He was going to be her ticket out of New York.

Author's Note: I mean, it's not as if anyone even reads my main work, but there's now an extras book if any of you are interested.