Adventure starts
Ayalis Orki - An alternate Earth reality
When I woke up, the sun lit my room and it was warm and cozy. I stayed in bed for another five minutes, thinking about last night. It was rather unbelievable. If I hadn't felt my aching feet I would have thought it had been just a dream. The running, the panic, Baxter's story, the emotions... I still didn't know what to make of it.
A knock on the door disturbed my thoughts.
"Miss Antwoine?!" asked a female voice. "Miss? Are you awake?"
"Yes. Do come in." I replied, getting myself out of the bed.
The door opened and Missis Wallbayth entered.
"It's seven o'clock, dear." she said "Breakfast will be served soon."
She left, whistling a cheerful tone. I put on my best dress, the rich-crimson one, and arranged my hat with some pearl pins. I left yesterday's booties out and put on my low-heeled satin slippers instead. They were more comfortable. I looked in the mirror and smiled – I was ready for my first day of work. I couldn't wait to meet my new colleagues, see the offices and learn the trade. Beginnings are always so exciting, aren't they? And maybe in a couple of years, I will be able to earn enough so I can have a place of my own.
I went downstairs and found a place at the living room table. There were two other guests at that table, both men. They saluted politely and got back to their morning newspapers. A maid brought a tea set and poured me a cup of the fragrant warm liquid. I tasted it – it was delightful. Waiting for breakfast, I took a magazine from the press pile on the table and began to shuffle through the pages. I was reading an article about the Queen's Summer Ball when Missis Wallbayth entered the living room. She looked worried.
"Miss Antwoine, there are two gentlemen asking for you. I showed them to the terrace".
I could hear a faint trace of discontent in her voice.
"Please tell them I will be there in a minute." I raised and excused myself from the table.
Walking towards the terrace, I had a hunch that the gentlemen Missis Wallbayth was speaking about were from the Watch – no doubt concerning Baxter. I found the two black-suited men sitting at a table, enjoying their coffee. Middle-aged, groomed, nothing striking about them. I approached the table and said:
"Gentlemen?!"
They jumped to their feet and made a reverence, hat in hands.
"Miss Antwoine?" asked one of them, the older one. My name is George Felton and this is Duncan Moore. He pointed toward an empty chair. "Please sit. Sorry to bother you at such early hours."
I sat down and looked at them, expectantly. They also sat down and put their hats on the table, looking relaxed. The younger one, Moore, searched his pocket and produced a booklet. He put it on the table, in front of me. I recognized it instantly: it was my diary. I didn't even know I'd lost it. It must have slipped from my pocket last night, as I was running.
"Is this yours?" asked Felton.
I took the diary and opened it to the first page. There, stretched in my own handwriting, my name was written down: Jasmine Antwoine.
"Indeed, it belongs to me," I said with a smile.
The two of them exchanged a meaningful glance. Moore cleared his throat:
"Miss Antwoine, I don't want to upset you, but we need to ask you a few questions."
"Are you with the Watch?" I inquired.
They exchanged another meaningful look.
"We are with the authorities," Felton replied."This won't take a minute".
My heart raced and I wondered if they could see my anxiety. I have nothing to be afraid of, I told to myself. I grimaced:
"Please"
"We know you went to Pearl Park last evening," Moore said. "You met with a man".
Anger swelled up in me. The thought of that! I got up on my feet."I did no such thing!" my voice trembled with umbrage. "I just went for a walk".
Felton glanced reproachfully at his younger counterpart. He half-rose from the table and bowed to me, apologetically.
"Please excuse my colleague, Miss Antwoine," he said, in a honeyed voice. "He didn't intend to be rude. Please, do sit down."
I didn't. Instead, I bent over the table and took my diary. Before I could leave, Moore grabbed my elbow.
"We insist!" he exclaimed, looking at me with cold eyes. He forced me to the chair. He was powerful; there was no point to struggle. I looked toward the dining room entry, in hope that Missis Wallbayth could come to my rescue, but no one was there. I put my hands in my lap and waited.
"Miss Antwoine, there is no need for unpleasantness," said Felton, in a conciliatory tone.
"Enough with this" interrupted the other one, rudely. "Tell us where Watters is!"
"Watters?" my perplexity was authentic. "I don't know what you are talking about".
"Your friend from the park, Sebastien Watters," he bellowed. "The one you ran away with..."
"First, it is not my friend," I replied, my voice full of anxiety. "I've never met the man until yesterday. And I didn't run away with him – that was a misunderstanding."
Felton put his hand on my shoulder, as to comfort me.
"Miss Jasmine," he pondered "Please help us apprehend Watters. You don't know him. He's a monster!"
My heart plummeted. I was barely able to breathe.
"I cannot help," I mumbled. "I don't know where he is..."
"Lies!" exclaimed Moore in a harsh tone. He jumped and made a gesture of anger as if slapping me. I cuddled in my chair, closing my eyes and averting my face.
"There's no need for this!" I heard Felton muttering.
"No shit!" replied the other one, angry. He took a silver snuff box out of his pocket and lighted himself a cigarette. He tossed the match in the garden, nonchalantly, and puffed his smoke. I tried to rise from the chair to run inside, but Moore was faster. He got hold of me and forced me to the chair again. His cigarette fell onto his lap and he cursed, tossing it away.
"Let me go!" I exclaimed, struggling to get up. "I'll scream!"
"You will do no such thing. Do you really want to cause a commotion?" threatened Felton. "We'll say we have to arrest you. Imagine what that would do to your reputation."
The mere idea of having to explain even a wrongful accusation calmed me down a little. But I was still in an angry state. I couldn't believe this was happening to me. It was outrageous. And where was Missis Wallbayth when I needed her? Or anyone else, for that matter.
"You'll come with us," declared Moore. "We will continue the questioning in a more suitable place."
I opened my mouth to protest but he jerked his index finger up to his lips, imposing silence. He patted the insides of his jacket, unveiling a hidden revolver. I froze, my fingers clenched at the diary in despair. They can't do this! I kept saying to myself. Moore stood up and seized my arm.
"Let's go!" he commanded, dragging me to the door. I had no way to resist. I looked imploringly at Felton, but he avoided my gaze. I struggled between the urge to yell for help and the threat of a great scandal if I did so. We made it to the front door without encountering anybody. That was a nuisance as much as it was a relief.
Out in the street the two men kept me between them, with Moore still holding my arm. Hopefully, this could look like a friendly walk for bystanders, I thought. Luckily, there was nobody outside. We crossed the street and made our way toward a black Vickers Mobile1515. Felton headed to the front of the vehicle as Moore and I approached the left back door. A figure swiftly launched from behind the Mobile. The man implanted himself, shoulder first, in Moore's lower body. That almost knocked me over. Moore exhaled loudly, painfully, and let go of my arm. He and the attacker went down on the macadam, with a bang. I dropped the diary and just stood there, incapable of reaction. In that instance, I recognized Baxter and felt thankful. He punched Moore hard in the jaw and jumped to his feet, just in time to fend off an attack from Felton. After the first blow missed his target, Felton steadied himself and assumed a boxing stance. Baxter was now caught between the two of them, with Moore trying to rise from the ground, still groggy. Baxter's only chance was to act decisively.
He moved within striking distance of Felton. He was younger and more agile, but Felton looked like he had some experience in fistfights. My heart raced as I watched the two men observing each other, pacing, getting ready. Baxter poked at Felton's body and managed to push him a few steps back. Another attempt, targeting the head, but Felton dismissed the kick and hit back. Baxter stepped behind, off-balanced. I held my breath.
It was Felton's turn to attack. He swung his right fist toward Baxter's face, putting his entire weight in that punch. Quickly, Baxter sidestepped and pulled the other man by the jacked sleeve, forcing him to stumble ahead. Having succeeded in distracting Felton, Baxter turned towards Moore, who was still struggling to get to his feet. He planted a heavy boot in the man's ribcage. I heard a snapping noise and closed my eyes in horror.
In the meantime, Felton regained his balance and got back into the fight. He stormed towards Baxter, throwing kicks and punches, determined to turn the dice in his favor. But Baxter didn't enter the trap. He slowly backed away, until his rear touched the Vickers Mobile. Felton grinned, preparing to land a decisive blow. Baxter dodged and mimicked an attack to the bowels. Felton instinctively crouched low in an attempt to protect his body. Instead, his face met with Baxter's knee and his nose made a loud cracking sound. Blood spurted over the asphalt and Felton lost his senses and hit the ground.
I must have been frozen in dismay. The fight took only seconds but to me, it felt like hours. The sheer violence of it made me fainthearted. I heard Baxter shouting at me from far away, as in a dream:
"Can you drive one of these mobiles?" and saw him pointing to the vehicle, but I couldn't react. "Jasmine! Jasmine!"
Suddenly alert, I shook my head and looked around. Felton was covered in blood, still unconscious, lying on his back, like a crucified man. Moore coughed blood, down in the ditch, spitting and cursing. He showed no intention to continue the fight.
Baxter came near me and touched my cheek gently.
"Are you all right?"
Still in shock, I didn't answer. I felt tears behind my eyelids but battled the need to cry. I knelt and retrieved my diary, with trembling hands. Baxter helped me to my feet and we ran off. At the first stop-way, we jumped into a commoner (public transportation). I must have looked appalling because I observed people staring at me. But I was too drained to even feel out of place. As for Baxter, his appearance was savage – with blood drops on his hands and clothes and breathing heavily.
We traveled some distance, several stop-ways, in silence. After we caught our breaths, I turned towards Baxter:
"What was that?" I demanded, furiously.
Baxter shrugged, looking sheepishly. He tried to clean the blood off his hands with a piece of cloth. He waited several seconds before responding:
"I'm sorry to have dragged you into this mess!" he said.
"I've had it with you apologizing," I snapped. "It's the third time you say that, but I'm still involved."
"I don't understand how they got to you in the first place. It's not like they followed us last evening. We ditched them." he added.
"They had this." I waved my diary in front of his eyes, pointing to my name on the first page. "Yesterday, in the park, I wrote down about how I arrived at the boarding home and how lovely my room was and everything. There you go name and address. What else could they wish for?!" I was annoyed by my own stupidity.
Baxter had the wisdom of saying nothing.
"Now the Watch is looking for me too. Like I'm some sort of criminal" I said, offended.
Baxter put his palm over my hand, protectively.
"Jasmine, I told you, they are not the Watch. They're much worse."
That wasn't comforting at all. I took my hand out and gathered myself.
"They said they were with the authorities. They acted like coppers." I boomed; then added, "And one of them carried a revolver."
"Did they show you any kind of credentials?" he asked. "Proving that they were the Watch?"
In all truth, they didn't. I felt foolish and was suddenly compelled by the urge to hurt him.
"They said you were not who you pretended to be. I think they used the word monster." I boasted.
Baxter studied me, discouraged. I glared back, in a belligerent manner. He looked away, biting his lips. We rode in silence for a few minutes. I felt sorry. He didn't deserve this attitude, not after risking his life for me. I wanted to apologize but didn't find the courage to break the silence. Finally, after dismissing myself with my own pride, I managed a whisper:
"If it weren't for you"... my voice broke. "But how come you were there?"
"Well... I wanted to see you again" declared Baxter simply, his face reddening.
This is scandalous. How dares he? I felt embarrassed and turned towards the window. A strange, warming sensation filled my heart. My pulse went nuts.
"Aaa...I wanted to apologize for last night," he continued awkwardly, red to the top of his ears.
"Oh, you have some apologizes to make" I exclaimed, getting off the commoner.
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