Back When the Lights Shined

Chapter Twenty-Two: FINALE

“Miss Zena! Miss Zena, my lady! Miss Zena! Wake up, my dear! Wake up,” a voice cries, barging in. The lights flicker on, nearly blinding me. Still half asleep, I rub my eyes, moaning. I look to the door and see Annabelle frantically waving her hands in the air.

            “What is it, Annabelle,” I groan.

            “There’s a man! In the president’s suite, there’s a man,” she cries, nearly hysterical.

            “Calm down. It’s only Ashton.”

            “No, no! This isn’t Ashton. Ashton is there, yes, but he has been arrested by a man! He’s old and has black hair and wrinkles. He speaks the same was Jean does,” she says, whispering the last sentence.

            “Arrested? Ashton was arrested,” I ask, my eyes widening. Without waiting for her to answer, I spring from the bed and sprint down the hall, headed to the staircase. I nearly trip over myself, I’m moving so fast.

            “No, dear! You mustn’t go up there,” Annabelle cries out behind me. I ignore her as I rush up the steps.

            A few times, I trip and land on the hard wood. Each time, I push myself back to my feet and continue running. I burst through the door into the hallway. As I turn the corner, I can see the door to the suite. It’s slightly ajar, revealing the inside. I can see Ashton, bravely standing tall in front of someone I can’t see. He holds his wrists out in front of him to be cuffed. Before they can wrap the cold metal rings around him, I barge inside and grab his arms behind me. I force him backwards, pressing him against a wooden bookcase. I lean back against him, ready to protect him with all my might.

            “Don’t you touch him,” I order the man in front of me.

            He has dark hair with a few grays. Two soldiers dressed in gray stand behind him, with their hands neatly resting at their side. They have matching berets and red sashes that are covered in pins. In their left hands, they hold rifles with bayonets at the end of the barrel. Every part of their uniform has been polished.

            The man in front of me with the dark hair has a red beret, making him stand out. His sash isn’t the only thing decorated. His entire uniform has pins scattered all over, awarding him for different deeds. He’s clutching handcuffs in one hand and papers in the other. I assume these papers are supposed to justify Ashton’s arrest. No matter what those papers may say and who they may be from, I will not condone it.

            “Miss, who are you?” the man asks with the same odd accent as Jean Beaulieu.

            “My name is Zena Whistley. I want to know what the heck you want with Ashton,” I ask, balling my fists. Ashton gently puts his hands on my shoulders.

            “Ah, the famous Whistley Child. Yes, we know all about you and your family history,” the man says.

            “Good. They you know what I’m willing to do to protect the things I care about in life, then. Now answer my question who are you and what are you doing here?”

            The man lifts his head a little to answer me.

            “My name is Antoine Manis, the commander of the French army. The king of France has received news that the French colony known as Circum has just been taken over by a local outlaw. He has sent me to detain the new leader. And, being that your history is what it is, I think I will take you into custody at well.”