The British Are Coming

Part 1: One of Them

"Sadie!" you shouted, "Help me!"  The thunder of muskets drowned out any sound from your mouth.  You staggered through the thicket, dragging the young wounded man under the armpits.  His satchel of belongings hung precariously over your shoulder, coupled with your own basket.  He was clad in only in his long undergarments, torn and frayed with soot and mud. His hair hung limply in wet strands that dripped with crimson..
"Just a little farther," you grunted from the weight of him, small but built like stone.  His muscles tensed beneath your fingertips with ever bumpy step.
You happened upon him earlier while searching for seagrass, as you often did.  It made a hearty addition to any stew, and food these days was scarce. It seemed soldiers were constantly invading your home and demanding a meal, which you obliged. You weren't exactly in a position to say, "No." Your part in this war was a complicated one.
You heard a loud splash as you began to fill your basket.  At the far end of the bank, a stranger waded from shore, bathing himself in the chilly river.  He looked about your age, but his enjoyment of the water was nearly childlike.  He dove under and resurfaced with a jolly grin.  His features were fair, certainly fairer than most around here.  His hair was a slippery mess of chocolate curls. And his rippled physique...

Your basket fell from your hands.  Quickly you stooped to gather the strewn seagrass.  A flush of shame came to your cheeks as you silently chided yourself for staring at him.  But you were simply captivated by his naked form. Simply beguiled.  It had been a long time since those type of  feelings stirred inside of you. A very long time.  Thankfully, the comely man was oblivious to your presence.

A deafening crack went off suddenly, somewhere through the trees. It ignited the dusky woods with a flash of fury and gun smoke.  The stranger spun around to the tree line and spotted you.  You gasped and hid behind a tree, clutching your basket to your chest.  You must get back to the cabin, back to Samuel and Sadie.

Another roar of gunfire went off, closer now.  Would the fighting ever end? Would there ever be solace from the constant discord? You wondered how much more blood would be shed before a treaty was made.  It all seemed so hopeless.

BOOM!

The sound of the cannon set your feet in motion.  Faster you raced towards home.  You were nearly there, nearly to safety..
Then your ears twitched at a sound: a cry of agony, raw with despair.  It stopped you in your tracks.  Your mind volleyed on whether to continue or go back...but only briefly. You knew in your heart what he would do.  He would go back without a second thought.  You took a deep breath and turned on your heel, racing back to the riverbank to find your handsome stranger terribly injured.

BOOM!

More cannons, more gunfire.  Startled, you stumbled onto your rear, taking your precious cargo with you.  He groaned when he hit the muddy ground.  His face, contorted in pain, was smeared with his own blood giving him a ghastly appearance on his otherwise fine features.

"Sir?" you whispered, hovering over him to lightly smack his chiseled cheeks, "Sir, stay with me, alright? We're nearly there."  The stranger only continued to groan, his lips barely parted to take in air.  You stood and wiped a trembling palm across your brow, then with a deep breath, hoisted him back up and continued towards the cabin.

"Sadie!" you yelled again, but she was already sprinting towards you. She grabbed his feet without hesitation and nodded for you to continue. 

Suddenly the man howled in pain. His scream was ear piercing and garbled, as if there wasn't just air in his lungs. And anything other than air is a very bad sign.

"We have to hurry!" you said frantically.  Another crack sounded off, closer now.  Voices shouted orders, in both French and English.  The war for independence from the British crown was going on for six years now. Six years of soldiers knocking on your door, questioning your loyalty.  Six years of distant cannons shaking your humble cabin, shattering family heirlooms from their shelves.  Six years your home was turned into a hell, and it had no sign of letting up.

"The table," you said to Sadie, struggling through the entrance.  You motioned to the large pine table that used to host pleasant family dinners. Now there are no pleasantries, and barely a family since he died.

Sadie quickly removed the pitcher of flowers from the table and gingerly helped you lay the man on his back.  He groaned again, incoherently, lifting his hand to reach out for something. You instinctively grabbed it. It felt cold and clammy in your hands. Another bad sign.

"Sir, can you hear me?" you leaned in closer, still holding his hand. The gash on his head ran clear from his left eyebrow to the middle of his skull.  Not a bayonet, surely.  It must have been a bullet,

You surveyed the rest of his body, taking in his injury. A gasp escaped you when your eye rested on his bloodied leg.  The bone protruded through the skin in a gory display.  You felt your stomach lurch and closed your eyes to compose yourself. "Heaven help me," you muttered to yourself.

You opened your eyes and glanced up at Sadie, her wide brown eyes conveyed the same thing: this leg may have to go.

"Mummy!" Samuel appeared from the bedroom, clutching his ears with fright. You stooped to his level and plastered a comforting smile on your face.

"It's just the thunder like we talked about, yes?" you said softly, kissing his hand, "Nothing to fear, my love," your smile faltered as another cannon boomed in the distance.
"Remember what Sadie told you," you nodded over to her and cast her a wary glance. She started signing to Samuel.  Samuel looked at her and nodded.

"Grandfather Thunder," he said.

"That's right! Grandfather Thunder who brings the rains to make the crops grow. Now be brave and go back to bed. Mummy will be in shortly."

Samuel ran back into the bedroom as another scream escaped your guest.

"We have to try to set it," you said to Sadie. She shook her head violently.  You grabbed her arm
for emphasis.

"We have to try," you said louder.  Sadie took a deep breath and nodded, relentingly.  You nodded back, taking a deep breath of your own.

"Heaven, help me," you whispered again.  The man writhed in pain, moaning nonsense.  His lips pursed tortuously and you don't know why, but you felt so compelled to comfort him, you placed your lips against his in a rash effort to ease his pain.  His body slackened and his misery seemed to subside momentarily. Even in this infirm state, you found him fair.  You pulled away with great effort and gazed at him with remorse.  His deep brown eyes searched yours for answers.

"I'm so sorry. This is going to hurt," you said, gripping his shin.  You nodded at Sadie, who braced his ankle with a grimace and nodded back.

"One...,"

Those eyes of his widened with understanding.

"Two...,"

Frantically, they darted between you and Sadie.

"Three!"

You threw your weight against his bone, snapping in back into place with a sickening sound.  Those haunting eyes shone with madness, bore into you, accompanied by a hair raising scream. His hand flew to your collar and jerked you closer to his face.

"You'll bloody well pay for that!" he growled in your face.  You fought to free yourself of his grip, stumbling back with a gasp. His strength was more than you bargained for.  His voice sent a warning to your core.

"Search his bag! See if you can find anything of use...spirits...something for a tourniquet..." you rattled off, completely rattled yourself.

You clutched your collar, gulping in air as Sadie rushed to your side.  The stranger slowly slipped into unconsciousness, his copper colored curls rested loosely against his brow. 

You stood there, taking in air, mind racing of what to do next.  Sadie pounded the table to get your attention.  You jerked your head in her direction and found her looking aghast at the bundle in her hands.

You turned to see the fabric she held, folded ever so neatly. Red, wool, and opulently decorated with ribbons. Her dismayed eyes drifted to yours.

"Heaven help us," you breathed shakily.

"He's one of them."