Chapter X

Chapter X

A Chapter by Ramy Wiles
"

This is the first scene I wrote for this book. It's definitely not the first, nor is it the last. Not even close to the last, actually.

"
His eyes fluttered open to a blurry haze of light and indecipherable shapes. Immediately, an astounding ache set in toward the back of his head, but he tried to ignore it as he sat up. His eyes adjusted gradually adjusted... but wait. He had definitely not just been in the gymnasium. How had he--?

Oh God. The memories came flooding back to Tom's mind, and he flew headlong into a panic. Celia. Where was Celia? Oh, God, if that b*****d had hurt her in any capacity... Tom didn't know what he would do. He whipped his head around in search for some sign, ignoring the throbbing in the back of his skull. Footprints, a bit of Celia's beautiful jewelry, even a smear of blood... anything that could possibly indicate where they'd gone.

"Look, Brian, our catch awakes," came a snarl from behind Tom. His stomach sank. The old adage "be careful what you wish for" had never been truer.

Carefully, Tom turned his head, bracing himself for what he might see. Lo and behold, it was as he feared. There, clad almost entirely in black, stood Madigan and one of his cronies. There was an almost diabolical smirk on the man's face, and in his hand he held a knife.

"How did you find us?" Tom spat immediately, only partially caring about the answer. All he really wanted to know was what the Irishman had done with his beloved, but he dared not ask. He wasn't sure if he was prepared to hear the answer.

"You were all too easy to track," Madigan said slyly, caressing the knife in his hands as one would pet a cat. "You ought to be a bit less conspicuous in your travels and in the company you keep."

"I... we left Ireland almost fifteen years ago!" Tom could hardly believe what he was hearing. The feud couldn't possibly be going on still, could it? This man was insane. There was no reason for him now to continue to hold a grudge.

"Of course you did," Madigan said. "For your schooling. I remember it very well. My father was rather resentful of your parents, if I recall correctly." He shook the hand holding the knife in a waving-off gesture. "But that's unimportant. What you neglect to realize is that our families continued to fight even after you and your brother left."

Oh, no. That meant... oh, God. That meant that his parents' letters had lied to him all those years ago. The Madigan men hadn't died in an innocuous house fire after all. They'd been murdered. This man who stood before him was out to avenge his father. And from the looks of it, he would stop at nothing to attain his goal. Tom said a quick prayer in his head, hoping to high heaven that James was still safe and undiscovered. If anyone is going to die, let it be me. Don't let him kill my brother, or his wife.

Don't let him kill Celia.


"What have you--" Tom began, but Madigan seemed to have anticipated what he was going to say, because he jumped in: "Your little lover? Oh, she's all right. We had to... er, sedate her a bit, but I assure you, she's still in good condition."

He gave an evil little laugh and motioned to his accomplice, presumably to go get Celia. Tom didn't trust a word that this man was saying. For all he knew, their families had long since resolved their differences and Madigan was just a madman with his own agenda. For all he knew, his love was perfectly safe with her sisters and parents, and James and Eva had no part in this. He continued to fight his pessimistic thoughts with all his might. Madigan had to be lying. He simply had to be.

And then the accomplice returned with two other men, both clad entirely in black... and Celia. Bound, gagged, and slightly bruised, with a gun to her head.

"NO!" Tom made to stand, but the headache overwhelmed him, and he staggered a few steps before falling back to his knees. His vision swam before him. He felt as though he were going to faint. Oh, God, help me, please. Not Celia, not Celia. Don't let her get involved.

"Now you see where it stands," Madigan said viciously. "Now, as I was saying... The fights continued even after you left."

Tom pushed himself up and rotated to face his opponent. He could barely stand to look into those eyes, those twisted blue eyes. Were Tom in a suitable state to fight, Arthur Madigan would be a dead man. "You're sick, Madigan. Let her go! If you have any ounce of--"

But he was cut off with a sharp kick to the side. Pain exploded through the right half of his body, and he rolled onto his back. He grabbed at his side in several futile attempts to stifle the pain.


© 2011 Ramy Wiles


Author's Note

Ramy Wiles
Give it a bit, it's not quite done.

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Added on April 6, 2011
Last Updated on April 23, 2011
Tags: Titanic, love, 1912, feud


Author

Ramy Wiles
Ramy Wiles

Marquette, MI



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Chapter One Chapter One

A Chapter by Ramy Wiles