Legacy

Meetup

Nathan

The weather was dreadful. The clothes I had been lent were getting soaked as I waited outside my apartment. It was stupid they could get me from France to here in a matter of hours with a new set of clothes, but an umbrella was too much. I fiddled with my coat, nervously. Two agents were placed nearby in a car ready to alert the ministry if Astor showed up. It was hard not to glance at the vehicle even after having been told repeatedly not to tip off Astor by looking at it. What if Astor did not show up? It was a question that had plagued my mind since I wrote the letter. There were so many reasons why he might not; maybe he never found the message; perhaps he was too mad to want to meet. I could not blame him for not wanting to see me again. The way I left him had not been kind. Still, I needed him to show up, or I was dead. There was no way the ministry would take pity on me if I did not deliver the wanted results. It took me a moment to realize I was shaking. I stared at my hand, trying to force it to stop; it would not stop shaking. I crouched down, putting my arms around myself as huge spots of black filled my vision.

"Shh, it is alright," I felt warm arms wrapping around me. I could not help it as I started to sob. The person kept reassuring me and calmly held me. It took forever, but slowly I found myself able to breathe again. It was first when the air started reaching my brain that I recognized the person who was helping me.

"Astor?" I asked, not sure if I wanted an answer.

"Yes, it is me," he replied. His voice was emotionless, and that hit me hard. The anger I could deal with, but this stoic mask Astor liked to put up was way worse. It meant he did not trust me at all, which was fair, but it still felt jarring after having gotten so close to the man. I pulled Astor closer, ignoring his attempt to pull away, and whispered: "We need to leave the car parked on the left has agents." For a moment, Astor stiffened up before smoothing out and replying in a hiss: "Of course, you never do anything halfway mister Collingwood do you?" Before I could defend myself, he continued, "Luckily for you, I have a friend nearby in a nice red car, so you better be ready to run." I had no smart reply to that I was too relieved to hear that there might be an escape from this horrible situation. Astor tightened his grip on me as we slowly got up from the ground. He then turned me in the direction of the red car. The message was clear; we are leaving now. We sprinted as fast as we could. I do not think the agents were fully prepared for that stunt, but as I fell into the car, it dawned on me I was bleeding. I had little time to think about it as I got slammed into the seat in front of me. Frantically I tried to put my seatbelt on as the car started moving at a brisk pace.

"Get down," someone yelled, and so I did. Hearing glass shattering as it got all over the backseat, I tried to shield myself with my arms. I have no idea for long the agents chased us around the city. At some point, I blacked out from sheer pain. Later, when I woke up, Astor was shouting at me, not that the words he said made much sense. It was just this constant stream of noise. I gave him a confused look, and then I opened my mouth to repose, but everything felt mushy, and now I was on something soft. The car had not been soft. Where was I? Dazed, I looked around, not that it helped this place was not familiar to me. "Just relax, you got shot," Astor was patting me gently on the hand. That could not be, right? Undoubtedly I would recall if I got shot. I shared my suspicion with Astor, who replied by shaking his head and exclaiming: "How have you not realized you got shot? It must be the shock it has to be. Not even you can be that bloody dense." I stared at him in shock Astor never cursed: "Astor does not curse," I refused to accept this imposter. The man, in turn, let out a loud sigh before replying: "Under normal circumstances no, but you are a special kind of stupid." Well, I guess with my recent track record, he was not wrong, and that was why I did not contest the statement. We sat in silence after that neither of us seem able to find the words needed to convey how we felt. The next couple of days went by swiftly, and I was forced to admit that Astor was correct I had indeed been shot. The bullet had hit my left shoulder and from how Astor worded it had been a right pain to remove. He and a man called Marston had spent over an hour trying to fish it out. Since we had just fleed from the ministry's agents, it had not been possible to get a real doctor to look at it, but Marston had assured me that he had examined his fair share of bullet wounds in his time. I was still not sure what he used to work as, but it sounded like some law enforcement. We were currently hiding in his house. Over the days, I had gotten more aware Astor informed me why he was working together with Marston and then dropped an unfortunate question: "So where is the report you took as you can tell we need it." I had no good reply the truth was that the university had a few pages, and the ministry had taken the rest. None of the two men had looked very happy with this news. Marston, even making a snide remark: "It had been a waste of time meeting me."