A Promise

Chapter Twenty-Nine

        Silence. That's all we heard. Silence. We couldn't think, we couldn't speak, we couldn't feel. All we knew was that Joly was dead. Reality was a painful thing. Of course, we had all accepted the fact that we could die long before this revolution began, but before this, we had never really understood the enormity of this situation.  We had not truly understood what it means to die. Now we knew. Now we understood, and now we were scared. But now it was too late to turn back.

        BANG! The gunshots brought us all back to reality. We had no time to grieve for Joly. We had to fight. We had to move on. Bossuet wiped his tears away and dragged Joly's body into a nearby alleyway.

        "Everyone to your positions!" Enjolras yelled. We shook away our sadness and aimed our guns.

        "Wait!" Feiully yelled. "There's a man in uniform climbing the barricade!"

        "Who are you?" Enjolras yelled.

        "I come here as a volunteer," the man replied, holding up his hands in surrender. 

        "Yeah, right," Enjolras said sarcastically. "See that prisoner over there? He was a volunteer like you, but really he is a spy who calls himself Javert."

        "I am no spy, Monsieur," the man said humbly. That's when I recognized him. Years ago, when I was a child, he had come to the inn and paid my parents in order to take that orphan girl Cosette away. I understood immediately why the man had come here. He wanted to protect Marius for Cosette.

        "It's okay," I told Enjolras, taking care to make my voice sound like a boy's. "I know him."

        Enjolras looked at him skeptically, but handed him a gun. "If you shoot us in the back, you'll never live to tell," he warned the old man. "Back to your positions!" We all raised our guns once again.

        "Fire!" Enjolras yelled. We pulled our triggers, and soldiers of the National Guard fell like dominoes. No matter how many we killed, more kept coming. It was as if the National Guard had an endless supply of men. We were outnumbered by far, and we knew it. The bullets kept flying at us, and we responded as quickly as possible. I fired my gun over and over again until my arms grew weary. Still, I fought on. Sweat poured from every inch of my body. I wished I could take off the hat and trench coat, but I didn't want Enjolras to recognize me. I fought harder and harder. My body ached, begging me to stop and rest, but I pushed on. My throat was parched. A cup of cool water sounded really good about now. I ignored my thirst and kept fighting. There was a nagging voice in the back of my head, saying words that I didn't want to hear. You promised Musichetta you would keep Joly safe. You broke that promise. She will never forgive you. Her child will grow up without a father. You broke your promise. How many more promises are left to be broken? I tried to ignore the voice, but I couldn't help but listen. I had made many promises in the past month or so, but truly, a promise was a strong word. How could I hope to keep all the promises I had made when I couldn't even keep my best friend's husband alive? I kept fighting, hoping that my exhaustion would help take my mind off my fears. Suddenly, someone next to me fell to the ground, blood seeping from his shirt. Bahorel. "No," I moaned. I wanted to stop and help him, but we were so outnumbered that I had to keep fighting. Someone to my left let out a loud yell, and I glanced over to see that Jehan had been shot in the shoulder. This is hopeless, I thought. We're all going to die. Maybe it was true. Maybe we couldn't make a difference after all. Maybe I would never live to see my wedding day. I could not let myself believe that, though. No matter how outnumbered we were, no matter how hopeless our situation seemed, I needed to cling to my last threads of hope. I needed to have faith that we were going to make it through this, otherwise I would have no reason left to fight.