Satine [ONGOING]

SATINE (VII)

As Florence drove, Satine couldn't shake the feeling of unease that was slowly settling over her. There was guilt first, guilt of driving off in this car, of fleeing the crowd as if they had been the enemy, when really they were just like her, how come the waiter had let her and Florence in instead of all of these other families. How come they had walked faster than that old couple with matching jackets, or that lady with flowers plaited into her hair, or all of those children, screaming for their mothers. What had she done to deserve this man's hospitality and pity? How could she possibly have gone on to steal his car after all the grace and kindness he had shown her. Then there was a terrible sense of foreboding and urgency, having grown up with a man like Ernest Dumont certainly had not spared her of the many gruesome details of war, and what the Germans had done during the last. Tales of towns deserted and destroyed, of entire villages reduced to mingled limp bodies because of asphyxiating mustard gas. They could be right behind them, they could have taken Paris already. The more she thought about it, the heavier her heart felt, it became quite hard to breathe eventually as a singular tear dripped down her cheek. She held Madeleine closer to her eventually, holding her as if she were a teddy bear. her small hands gripped onto her skin and Satine thought she might burst into sobs. What sort of world would she get to grow up in? She couldn't bear to look at her peaceful closed eyes without feeling a sickly wave of guilt wash over her. The world was an awful place, and she had no idea. Florence shot a quick glance at Satine, and lingered on the image of her holding onto her daughter in tears. The two women met eyes briefly, and said nothing, but Florence eventually reached for Satine's hand, keeping only one hand on the steering wheel. They drove for what felt like hours, the streets growing emptier as they ventured further away From Montereau, giving way to the true french countryside, cow fields as long as the eyes could see where small little barn houses popped up occasionally like patches of mushroom. The sun was high up in the sky, shining down on them all mercilessly. The temperatures were nearly unbearable, Satine rolled down her window, until she realised the air outside was thick with dust and close to unbreathable. Through the windows, Satine sometimes met eyes with a few travellers, sweat dripping from their sunken faces, as they walked slowly, their backs bent in exhaustion. She gulped each time and lifted her chin up. She couldn't help them all, she could barely help herself as it was. It was hard enough to look after Madeleine, for whom they were already running out of food to feed her with. Thrust was also starting to itch her tongue as the sun kept blazing onto the roof of the car. They were getting dehydrated so inconveniently fast. Suddenly, Florence slowed the car to a stop, her eyes widening in alarm. Satine followed her gaze and saw a group of exiles from Paris up ahead, huddled together all along the road, stretching as far as the eye could see. Some were sitting on the ground, their faces drawn with exhaustion, while others were pacing back and forth, their expressions filled with fear and uncertainty, seemingly having lost their direction whilst most kept walking, despite the blisters and the hunger that constantly stalled them. The smell brought back unwanted recent memories and Satine did her best not to look. The car barely moved forward, people clung to the windows, begging, hoping that Satine and Florence had anything to spare, but they didn't and it broke her heart in a million pieces to watch the empty vacant eyes of children letting go of hope once more. There was some shouting as Florence kept driving.
"What are you doing!" An old man roared accusingly. Florence paid him in mind and kept her mind focused on not running anyone over, or losing her patience. Satine held Madeleine even closer.

"Hey! What's the car doing here!" For the first time in her life Satine hated everyone's eyes on her. Desperation breeds the worst sort of behaviour, and it pained her to think it but she was terrified of her fellow man. A herd of people circled their car, some curious, some angry, some desperate. Most were eventually dragged away by the natural current of the crowd but Satine's heart clenched as she spotted a crying child among them, all alone, looking in all directions, screaming for his mother. Every part of her ached, every bit of her soul would never have forgiven her if she had slowly drifted away from this young boy without even giving him the slightest bit of notice. She could only begin to imagine living through this horrid ordeal alone. Alone as a young child. Without thinking, she reached for the door handle, her mind set on going to help. She gently put Madeleine down on the passenger seat, she stretched whole body out in a starfish, and Satine stepped out of the vehicle, which immediately came to a halt.

"Satine!" Florence called in a mix of frustration and worry, but Satine had only one goal in mind: to get to this young boy. She wouldn't let another one go unnoticed, sometimes you just have to do things and you could never explain it, this was one of those moments for Satine. As Satine pushed past the crowd almost mechanically, there was nothing but determination crossing her mind. Florence stepped out of the car, shutting the door behind her. The clear thud of it seemed so unbelievably accentuated as suddenly everyone went quiet. In the distance, a strange low humming made its way toward them from above. The sound was parasitic, coming from an unidentifiable direction and taking up everyone's auditive senses, Satine looked up to the sky apprehensively. The quiet was so unnatural, it felt surreal, foreboding. The humming stopped briefly and before Satine could react, the sound of machine gun fire echoed through the air and bullets rained down on them from above. The repetitive sound was deafening. Satine's heart caught in her throat as she threw herself to the ground, hitting so hard her jaw went numb from the impact, the sound of bullets whizzing past her ears forced her eyes shut. people screamed and scattered, trying to find cover. Satine jolted at each thud of bodies hitting the ground, the smell of blood made its way into the air, filling her nostrils. Her stomach twisted as time seemed to slow down. She could not tell if she was in pain, if she was dead, alive, injured. She tasted the metallic accent of blood, mixed with the minerals of the mud against her face and she wondered if this was when she would die, among the crowd on a dirty road covered in sticky blood that wasn't her own. The liquid seeped into her dress, latched itself onto her fingers. She would never forget the sensation. Scream, after scream, Satine's eyes blurred with tears as she shook uncontrollably. Unable to conjure a single coherent thought. Then, suddenly, it stopped, the sound of fire ceased, and was replaced by a high pitch ring in Satine's ears. From the ground, In the midst of the chaos, Satine's eyes found the crying child once again. He was lying on the ground, his small body trembling with fear, his legs pulled up against his body. He was still alive. Without thinking, Satine crawled toward him and just as she reached out to him, her hand almost against his face, another hail of bullets struck the ground around them. Satine screamed as the boy fell forward, limp and lifeless immediately, falling into her lap. Satine had seen the child's small body jerk as bullets tore through him. She cried out in horror as his cries turned to silence, his lifeless eyes staring up at the sky that still hid hostility. In another window of reprieve, she turned around, locking eyes with Florence, she stumbled up onto her shaking legs. Satine could hear her shouting something, but the sound was lost in the chaos around them and the ringing in her ears. They clung onto each other. Falling onto one another behind the rusty body of the car as more bullets fell down onto them. Tears, tears and screams was all Satine could remember, until bewildered, Florence pushed herself toward the door to the passenger seat with a despairing scream. The thought struck her like lightning: Madeleine. As the plane turned back around, Florence threw herself onto the ground behind the car for cover, shielding Madeleine with her body at all cost, Satine threw herself over them both without a second thought and then suddenly, it all stopped. Stopped. The plane disappeared into the distance and left behind a tragic stillness. The crowd that had been bustling, desperate, was no more. In the silence, Satine and Florence wept, not moving. Satine wrapped her arms around Florence's waist, her hand covered in blood, staining her dress. She inhaled the familiar scent of her hair and listened to the steady beating of her heart to assure herself that she was alive, that they were both alive. All alive. Her vision was blurry, she heard the heaving breaths of her beloved and could not move. They didn't even look up for a good twenty-minutes only doing so once the adrenaline began to wear off. The air smelt of iron and smoke, the sun was hurting Satine's eyes as she looked around at the pure carnage. The few survivors slowly began to get up on their feet, dragging their feet among the dead, sniffling, shaking. Satine locked eyes with a young woman quite far away. The empty stare she gave sent shivers down her spine. A few on the ground whimpered, bleeding profusely, and with her shaking pale hands, Satine ripped pieces of her scarf and skirt,sobbing as she tried to wrap the limbs of the dying, slowly watching life drain out of them. She tried and tried, until the frustration and anger of her absolut uselessness broke her down. Florence stumbled toward her, going onto her knees next to her as she slowly closed the eyes of the young boy. Satine slowly hummed a tune for him, she could not tell if he was still fighting, if he was still there, and if any of them were, she prayed that her voice would soothe the dying.