Chapter 2

Chapter II

The following day, the storm had subsided to a drizzle, and Bessie woke up the kids to go to school, handing them the family umbrella; or, as it actually was, the wide piece of frayed cloth draping the washed away pieces of wood consisting of the framework of the ‘umbrella’. Samuel and Beatrice sprung up from their mattresses ready to take on the new day, but Patrick lay on his for several minutes before slowly rising to his feet. Patrick, in fact, had been wide awake for the duration of the night, listening to the uneasy sounds of the thunder and pondering about the ‘winds of change’. After not more than twenty minutes, however, the siblings were on their way to the poor schoolhouse, over a mile away. Slowly but steadily, the group managed the pestering walk to the schoolhouse in the outskirts of a neighboring town. To their great shock, though, they found the dwelling deserted, with eerie lights sourcing from the interior. Pieces of the roof had collapsed, leaving the crumbling walls exposed. Not a person was in sight. Samuel was the first to speak; his tone honest, yet afraid, “Why is the school like this? What happened? Where is everybody?” And with that, he took it on himself to investigate, and ran into the wreckage. Patrick ran after him to impede his progression, and Beatrice followed suit, quickly yet cautiously. This was a typical scenario, and she feared the worst. In fact, every adult had known it was a matter of time till this horrible event surfaced. It was obviously the work of a group of thieves, or Grenadores, as the immigrants from Spain called them. These despicable bands emerged during the beginning of the Great Depression, and were worse than ever now that the whole world was seemingly knee deep in this mess. Different as they were, the Czech locals and the Spaniards shared a mutual hatred of the Grenadores, and took precautions together to thwart them as much as possible. The schoolhouse, though, was a weak point, and the thieves were more than happy to take the opportunity to rid the place of its contents down to the very last eraser. This all ran through Beatrice’s confused head as she ran headlong into the interior of the building.

The moment the sight had been set before their eyes, total chaos ensued. Armed people stormed the room like a flash flood, tables and chairs flipped over to reveal tens of weapons, pistols fired wildly and bayonets pointed at anyone who was in their path. Patrick felt a hand tugging on his shoulder, and tuned wildly to see Beatrice dragging him to safety. Then the unthinkable happened. The group slowly receded, and with it went poor Samuel held by a tall stalky man with long brown hair, the same shade of brown as her own after she was caught in the rain or when she took a shower, trying to keep Samuel’s arms and legs from flailing uncontrollably every which way. The exit seemed so far away, and Patrick felt himself lunge at the group, only to be pushed down from Beatrice. Then a gun crack was heard, and the grip on him was released. Horrified by the suddenly pallid complexion on his sister’s face, Patrick ran outside with a superhuman burst of force, dragging his sister by her arms. He was devastated. Simply devastated.

Patrick didn’t know what to do; should he help Beatrice, or help Samuel? Daring another look at Beatrice’s face, he was aghast at her state. Blood streamed in miniscule rivers of agony on her chest, and her shirt was soaked in blood. He knew that mortal danger was imminent for her, yet Samuel’s survival period ran indefinitely. Thus, Beatrice needed to be attended to first. He practically dragged her through muddy streets as fast as possible, and burst into the nearest house in a matter of minutes. “Help, Help! Please help me! My sister was shot and she is going to go and I don’t have much time! Please, do anything, anything!” bawled Patrick in a slur of words and sounds. Luck had struck Patrick: the house he had entered was one of a kind hearted couple; and as soon as they saw Beatrice limp in his hands, the man ran off to fetch the town’s alchemist and the woman proceeded to help with the wound as much as possible in the meanwhile. Patrick was bawling uncontrollably and would not respond to anything. Then everything went white and fuzzy around his eyes, and he lost consciousness.

Author's Note

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