Becoming a Founding "Father"- Historical Hamilton

Chapter Six: Devastation Reigned

Shadows and voices flow across my mind, making no sense. Time doesn't seem to exist in this place. I feel like I've seen so much, yet nothing at all. The voices get louder, more coherent. I feel like I've heard it all somewhere, but I can't recognise half of the voices.

"Everyone give it up for America's favourite fighting frenchman!" "C'est mon frére, connard!" "I promise that I'll be careful, so please don't... you know what I'm talking about."  "Maybe I could tell Washington about-"  "What do you mean, 'he's gone'?!" "Ah, oui. My apologies, the language isn't kind to me." "My daughters are quite the troublemakers, are they not?" "Mon cher ami, your eyes are getting lighter by the day." "Raise a glass to freedom, which they shan't ever take away..." "Solomon- I- we weren't-!"

They twist in my head, the unfamiliar voices trying to tell me something I'm missing. But I can't figure it out, my brain too slow to catch the fleeting voices that surely held some kind of importance. And then they all quiet down after a desperate shout of "WHERE IS HE?!" that shook me down to the bone.

It sounded so familiar, but I know it hasn't happened. I would've remembered such a heartbreaking shout. It continued to ring in my ears until I woke up.

---

Honestly, I wished that I didn't. The outside world is even more loud, shouts and cries coming from left and right. It took me a while to figure out where I was. The white ceiling looked back at me silently as people panicked left and right.

The various cuts and bruises on my body stung, making me want another few hours of sleep, but I realised that lying on the floor isn't currently safe. With all of my willpower, I slowly sit up, wincing at my sore muscles. I found out that I was laying on a makeshift bed, right next to many other unconscious people. All of them looked completely tattered, almost on the brink of death. Maybe that's what I looked like, too.

A person passed by me, laying down another body, and I couldn't help but ask. "Excuse me, sir. Where are we? What happened?"

"A hurricane, that's what happened boy," he replied gruffly, not noticing my shock as he eyed me up and down, muttered something else and went off, probably to get another person. I blink.

A hurricane.

I just survived a hurricane.

But there wasn't enough time to process such a mind-boggling fact, because a woman shouted at me to leave the beds if I'm healthy. So, only equipped with my backpack, I was thrown into the panicked masses of people who were shouting and searching for their loved ones.

My mind felt weirdly blank as people rushed all around me. Where am I again? How did I get here? Where do I go now?

Alexander is the first thing that pops into my mind. Where is he? Did he find shelter somewhere safe? Is he safe? Did he alive?

Who am I kidding, of course he is, Hamilton isn't known for being a small child that died from a hurricane. That only slightly quells my worries. I should better find him as quick as possible, before something happens to either of us.

As if an angel graced this earth, I see the baker's wife. Though also disheveled, she seems to be in less of a worried state than everyone else. I quickly stride to her, successfully not pushing anyone over, and greet her shakily.

"Hi, miss."

"Oh, James!" Yep, that's me. I'm still not used to it, and now that Alexander uses my other 'name', I feel like everything will become a bit more confusing to me. I smile shakily at the dear woman, trying not to wince from pain. "We were looking for you! Come, your brother is with us."