A Prisoner Of War

Chapter Ten : Raindrops

Author's Note : This video above is from a YouTube channel that I discovered recently, musicalbasics. It honestly has some of the best piano music I've ever listened to. This piece above is called, 'Fires of a Revolution'.  You're welcome to play it while reading. 

___-*-___

"He's your what?"

Alex sighs. "I said, Jackie, that he's my cousin."

I lean back on the bed, drop the back of my hand on my eyes, and try to take it all in. I could see the resemblances. They both had the same deep cobalt eyes, and identical, straight black hair-

But I digress. I know we have to keep going, shoulder wound or not. Enough days have been wasted and the General must be on the verge of finding us with the trackers-

The trackers!

I sit up with a jolt as I realise that the tracker is still in my bloodstream. When I tell Alex this, she visibly pales. From behind her, the black-haired boy (whose name, I learned, is Robert Falcon, cousin of Alex) speaks up.

"I don't know about you, but I cut out mine when I escaped."

Alex whirls around, giving her brother her trademark death glare.

"You stupid idiot! And you did not even have the sense to tell us?"

"Well, you never asked."

He holds out his arm, and I see a neat incision on the inside of his arm. I briefly think how he could have extracted the liquid with such precision.

"Oh." Alex's countenance clears. "Well, you'd better take out ours too."

~

Alex sits on the chair, leaning back and pressing her thumb on the inside of her elbow with great force. Robert had already taken her tracker out. He seemed to know exactly where the tracker was located. He had swiped a scalpel and this weird injection-slash-tube which had a needle which shot out from the small silver tip from the prison hospital. He waited a while till a hint of blood bloomed from the cut on Alex's arm and carefully positioned the needle. As he pulled the plunger, I saw through the transparent tube that a sickeningly viscous green fluid was filling the small tube. About halfway, Robert stopped and cracked a grin.

"There you go, little sis."

"I'm three years older than you, moron. I'm eighteen."

"Yeah, yeah, and I'm fifteen. But you're still my little sister." Robert made a move so as to pat Alex's head, but she sent him a burning glare.

"Touch one hair, and I will break your arm and make sure you can never use it again."

Robert retracted his hand immediately. "Jeez, so violent."

At present, he's bent over the inside of my elbow, looking for the vein to make an incision in. I hate injections, and so I sit very, very still and squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for the impending doom that comes in the form of a thin, silver needle that will poke my skin and make me bleed to death.

Okay, fine. Maybe I tend to exaggerate sometimes.

When Robert is done, he carefully puts a bandage on the inside of my elbow, the tips of his messy black hair tickling my elbow. I can see the metal syringe, full of the fluorescent green tracking fluid. 

Just as we're done, my head snaps up. Years of spending time with Dad and the birds in the forest has taught me to distinguish the faintest of noises. I slowly sit up, get off the bed and inch towards the window, keeping my head below the sill.

And then, my ears pick it up. A faint sound, like the pattering of raindrops in acute synchronisation.  The very same sound that sent me to that godforsaken prison anyway. My breath catches, and I suddenly feel as if I can't breathe at all and my throat is closing up and I feel like I'm falling-

I force myself to look at a lone orange leaf as it flutters rapidly into the room, as if it's also in a rush to get away from the soldiers. I calm down, and realise that I haven't had one of those in years. Panic attacks.

I need to calm down. One Breath. Two.

I turn around to face the little group. Panic builds up in my chest, but I force it down. "They're coming," I say, and I'm pretty sure my voice trembles.

Before I know it, my knees buckle, and Alex and Robert rush to help me before I can fall to the ground.

"We have to hide," I say, and the tears are running freely down my face. "We just- we need to hide. The soldiers are coming and if they get us again they'll probably -" I stop on a hiccup.

Alex's face turns serious. She turns and addresses the group at large. "Get Victor."

Pru rushes out of the room and within seconds, Victor Glenn, retired soldier and owner of this cottage, rushes in.

"They're coming!" Robert yells from beside Alex, the moment Glenn walks in.

"What? Down to the basement! Everyone, now!" Glenn rushes out of the door, everyone scrambling and following.

Minutes later, we find ourselves being led to an ebony mantelpiece, inconspicuous among miscellaneous objects in the cluttered basement . Glenn gives a great heave and it slides open to reveal a trapdoor. We attempt to push it open, but it refuses to budge. The pattering of soldiers' feet grows steadily louder above us, and panic fills us as we ascertain that they could be here in seconds. At last, with an almighty push, Robert slams his shoulder into the stout wood, and it gives way, revealing a black hollow, slightly ominous but like a small room. It smells musty; of old wood, and the soldiers grow louder with every passing second. We rush inside, into the inky blackness, as we hear Glenn latch the trapdoor and slide the mantelpiece back into place with a click, just as the soldiers rap on the brass knocker on the door.

_

End of Chapter Ten.

Yes, I know. Three months is unacceptable. What can I say? I have just one word :

Exams.

Yes : First a series of unit tests, then the half-yearly examinations after just about three-quarters of a month. 

Some other news : I recently finished reading Anne of Green Gables and I love it! There is never a dull moment in the book. However, I think that the book is quite conclusive. I haven't read Anne of Avonlea yet, but I felt a (kind of) sense of finality as I read the end of Anne of Green Gables. Anyhow, I'll read Avonlea and see what happens!

I have also begun listening to a lot of cello and violin. Piano, of course, was always on the list. Also, renditions of popular soundtracks such as that of Harry Potter using Indian instruments are also too good!

Yeah. Anyway. Bye.

Cheers,

-T.J.