Before It's Too Late

Five

I peeled my eyes open. I had a terrible headache. It felt as though a nail was being hammered into each temple. I barely slept due to the discomfort of the floor. Enjolras' arm was not the greatest pillow. But, there was no way I was going to leave him...not in his condition. I helped Enjolras outside, where Grantaire was calling us. His arm was wrapped around my neck and I had my arm around his waist. He hunched over as he winced with every step.

"Enjolras, look at this." Grantaire guided us.

I saw three of our boys holding someone at gunpoint. I didn't know who it was. I didn't recognize him. He looked like he was in the middle-class, judging by his apparel and he looked about the age of sixteen. He seemed extremely threatened as he had his hands raised by his ears as his eyes bounced on and off the tips of each gun.

"I mean no harm. I'm here to join," his voice was strained revealing his nervousness.

"Who are you?" asked Enjolras, giving a disapproving look.

"I'm Luc. Please don't shoot!" his eyes were glued to the guns as his chest expanded and dropped with each scared breath.

"And you say you want to join?"

"Yes," he stated, nodding his head. His black hair bounced with this.

"Put your guns down, boys," Enjolras said, pushing the tip of a gun down that was held by  Feuilly.

"Enjolras! How do you know if we can trust him? He might be like Javert," Combeferre questioned his judgment. His thick eyebrows furrowed together.

"Trust me on this one." Enjolras stared into Combeferre's eyes as he laid his hand on his heart.

Combeferre waited a second before he nodded reluctantly.

---

Luc told us everything about him. He was very passionate about the revolution. He rambled on and on about how unfairly he believed the people were being treated. 

"So, can I join you?" he asked after he finished his rant. Enjolras and Grantaire exchanged looks.

"Sure," Grantaire smiled. He stood up, wine bottle raised high. "To Luc!," he took a long drink from his bottle. "and to the revolution!" choruses of cheers rang out from the group. Luc grinned and took the wine bottle that was handed to him. Just as Grantaire, he took a long drink. Enjolras got up from his chair and hobbled to the front of the room.

"The year is 1832, my friends, and the people of France suffer because of an ignorant king. We cannot let France go on like this. We much show them that we cannot continue to be treated like this!" mutters in agreement filled the room. "We must prepare for tomorrow. We will load the guns tonight," said Enjolras. With that, almost every boy in the room grabbed a musket. They cocked them with care. The room fell silent except for the clicking of loaded guns.

"Enjolras. We need more ammunition." Combeferre jumped up, breaking the silence.

"I volunteer to go get more," Luc butted in. "It's the least I could do."

"Here is fifteen francs. Buy all that you can get with that much and come straight back. Be careful and stay out of sight. Understand?" Enjolras talked to him as if Luc was a little boy.

"Yes, sir." And with that, he was gone in a flash out of the café. The group looked at him in surprise like they couldn't believe he'd let Luc take of such a job.

"What? I want him to get a chance to prove himself to us." Enjolras smirked.

The boys chuckled softly at these words. Enjolras sat down slowly next to me on the floor. Quiet murmurs sprinkled the air, but other than that, there was silence once again. I began to nod off, letting my head rest on the firm shoulder of Enjolras. Just as sleep began to overtake me, screams pierced the thick night air. Everybody jumped, including me.