The Plains of Abraham

Chapter 5

The deep woods echoed with the muffled shouts of faraway men. In minutes they would converge on my position.

My clothes were sticky with blood. I tore my shirt open and inspected the wound. There was an entry hole on my left side and an exit hole on my back. The ball had gone clean through. I could move and function, so I guessed the ball hadn't hit any internal organs, but it was only a guess. Blood leaked like a crude wooden cask leaked wine. I pressed my torn shirt against my side. But I couldn't cover both holes. If help didn't arrive I'd bleed to death.

There was a crashing in the brush. I looked up. It was the man with the sword. He emerged from the brush and spotted me sitting at the base of the tree.

A greasy-haired hunter. In a flannel shirt. Stumbling upon his prey, finding it helpless. He smiled. His teeth were mossy. But there was something non-predatory about the smile. And something familiar, too.

He crept toward me, looking around, satisfying himself I was alone. I eyed my musket on the ground, within arm's reach, but it would take a minute to reload. The swordsman studied Rasmussen's lifeless form, then turned his attention back to me. He took no action, just stood there, flashing his grimy teeth.

"Well," I said, "aren't you going to kill me?"

The smile vanished from his face. "Kill you? Why would I want to kill you?"

"Isn't that why you're here?"

"Don't you recognize me, René?"

The man before me blurred and blended with a vision from years ago. The resemblance came into focus as the two images merged.

"Oh my God. Gideon?"

"Yeah, it's me." He gestured with his free hand at his own expansive girth. "I've gained a little weight."

He'd just inhabited my dreams. How could that be? But of course: I'd seen him in the pack of martinets and he'd looked familiar. My subconscious mind had been talking to me.

There was no overlooking his sword. He followed my gaze and shrugged, embarrassed.

"Rasmussen tried to kill me," I said.

"Rasmussen lived by the sword, so to speak. Now look at him."

"So what are you here to do?"

"Take you home. We're tasked to instruct you that if you surrender you'll receive a light sentence."

"And if I don't?"

His eyes drifted down. "We've been ordered to bring you and Father Marchand back dead or alive." He pointed at the crumpled corpse nearby. "Karl preferred it one way, I prefer it another."

"So you do intend to kill me."

"Don't make this hard, René. Besides, you don't know what they're saying about you back in Kebek. People understand how upset you must have been about your brother's death."

"My brother's execution," I correct him.

"Very well, execution. I have a message from Father Mitchell. He says he'll allow mitigating circumstances at your trial. You know Father Mitchell; it's a big concession for him."

"Anything from my mother and sister?"

"They were both detained after you escaped. Danielle was released shortly before I departed. She says she wants everything to return to the way it was before all this happened."