The marine lieutenant carefully watches me as the horse-drawn cart takes us toward the marine garrison. A few other marines are riding with me, all of them quiet. However, there was one marine who looked younger than the rest, staring at me harshly.
After a platoon of marines following the cart I'm in, there is another where Morgan is being held.
As my eyes shift away from Morgan, I catch the marine with the harsh glare, also glancing toward him, eyes filled with hatred. His jaw tightens, and his knuckles grow pale against his musket. His breath is heavy. I could see him clench his jaw.
His glare turns to me. "Were the two of you the rogue group that descended into the sewer?"
The sewers? Why is he asking about that?
The marine's face hardens. "Did you enter the sewers after shooting off a round into the chest of another marine? Then killed—no—masscured, butchered, an entire squadron, and left their bodies in piss and shit."
The marine's grip trembled on the rifle, red anger filling his cheeks. I look at him blankly, trying to wrap my head around his words. Then, the memories clicked.
Just before we entered the sewer, after Morgan opened that entrance, we were caught by marines. I held a gun in my hand that Morgan shot off, killing one. Then he killed another squadron soon after that in those tight sewers.
I'm not sure why I couldn't recognize the question right away. Maybe the fact that they were overshadowed by the Matriarch and her domain of flesh.
"Answer!" The marine yells, almost lunging. I didn't have time to react. A hand nearly reaches for my collar, but the Lieutenant yanks the marine's wrist away, pushing back into his seat.
"Are you mad?" The Lieutenant slaps the marine across the face, pushing him into the man next to him. Behave yourself, Private Kurt. The Inquisitor himself told us the boy is not to be harmed. Put your personal feelings aside and understand your place. Understood?"
The marine, Kurt, places his hand where the Lieutenant hit him. I can tell he wants to act out; he wants to scream and hit back, yet he holds himself back, gritting his teeth. "Yes, Sir," Kurt grumbles.
Kurt…
The marine definitely has some similarities to him, to John. The same eyes, same face structure, specifically their noses, are identical. However, he looks older than John with broader shoulders. He seems to be either an older brother or some other close relative.
Now I understand, I know the reason for his sudden hostility toward me, and toward Morgan. He never found John's body. And when we've killed one marine before entering the sewer, and seeing a squadron of butchered men, one can only assume.
He sees Mogan and me, and John wasn't seen with either of us. My head droops down, my hands grasp bundles of my hair as I begin to think about John.
I've only heard a gunshot. Only one, and nothing else. No cries of pain or any anguish as we leaped, only silence.
I don't want to assume anything that could've happened. I want to imagine John sitting, watching the sun set like I am, but I can only pretend or push reality away for so long. I must face and acknowledge the truth: Jonathan Kurt is dead.
I think back to his words, to him calling me a liar, to him saying that the Saints don't bless liars, it all strikes me to my core, to my heart, soul, toward my Essence.
How was I supposed to know I couldn't keep my promise? How was I supposed to know we would enter hell and face a terrible evil? I can see many things, but the future isn't one of them. I believed we all could've made it out. I didn't think any of us were deadweight.
And now I face another Kurt who knows nothing of John's fate—his choice.
There's a certain weight in my chest. I don't know if it's fatigue or my mind, but it's heavy. Just as heavy as when I held that gun.
I take slow breaths. My body straightens as my eyes level with his. And a deep breath enters before I make my words. "Do you know a Jonathan Kurt?" I ask.
And the Kurt in front of me, his eyes widen in recognition. His eyes become bloodshot when John's name leaves my mouth.
"How do you know that name?" Kurt shouts. "How do you know my brother? How do you know his name? What did you do to him, you bastard!"
I flinch slightly at his yelling.
The Lieutenant grabs Kurt by the collar and gut punches him. "Quiet Private. You will not conduct yourself as such."
The Lieutenant shoves him off, then glares towards me. "As for you, boy," the Lieutenant gets close, I see the man hold onto his pistol as he stares into my eyes. "For the remainder of this trip, you will be silent, or I will gag you. Kurt wasn't the only one who lost someone. An officer was killed during your run from us. If it weren't for that damn Inquisitor, I would hang you and feed your dead corpse to the crows. I can't wait for the day when you're both tried for treason. I'll be the one rmtting your nooses."
The Lieutenant scoffs once before leaning back. "Driver!" The Lieutenant calls. "How far have we got?"
The driver looks back toward the Lieutenant. "We're just about there, sir. Coming up to the gates now."
The Lieutenant smiles. "Good."
As the cart lurches forward over the cobblestone, toward the looming silhouette of the garrison, I glance toward the falling sun. It's bleeding gold and orange, the sun dipping into the sea. It's a burning coin sliding beneath the edge of the world.
There are dozens of violet clouds layering themselves over the sun, absorbing the last of its warmth before it goes. They're all light and wispy, floating over the sea so lazily. It makes me jealous. They don't have to worry about the danger that lies ahead for me. For when that sun is gone, and the moon sits bright in the sky, the hunt for me begins.
However, I've got a feeling it won't be easy for the Somata to get me whilst I'm near the Inquisitor. There's a lot of worry I have, but I must steel myself. If this night is like the last, it'll be a long night.
I must prepare for any encounter and defend myself when needed. Ikaris isn't here to save me this time.