I give my sister's body a firm shake, trying to jolt her back to reality. "Hey, why aren't you firing back? Rachel, snap out of it!" I continue shaking her until she finally comes around, blinking as she returns to the present.
The echoes of gunfire reverberate in the background, punctuated by the booming blasts of cannons aimed squarely at our mansion. We've got to get out of this room now, before a cannonball finds its mark and takes us out. Pushing through the pain coursing through me, I tug Rachel away from danger, urging her to move before it's too late.
"We've got to go, follow my lead. If you can't shoot, just stay quiet, got it?" I instruct Rachel firmly, glancing back to ensure she's with me as I swing open the door leading to the hallway. Our only escape route is downstairs, towards the well. It's risky, sure, but it beats dodging cannonballs and bullets any day.
Despite the chaos raging around us, I strain to listen for any sign of approaching danger. The cacophony of gunfire and exploding cannonballs fills the air, while the relentless assault of soldiers on our mansion grows louder. I can even make out the unmistakable sound of a battering ram pounding against the front door, their entry imminent. And I'm certain there are more soldiers lurking outside the windows, ready to strike at the first sight of movement.
I keep up the pace, with Rachel trailing close behind me. My heart pounds in my ears, the rapid thumping drowning out all other sounds. Each step reverberates through the smooth carpeted floor as we race onward.
Approaching the first corner before the stairs, I signal to Rachel to hang back, not wanting her to risk being the first target if danger lurks ahead. Gripping my rifle tightly, I take cover behind the corner, cautiously peeking around its edge. Two soldiers come into view, rifles at the ready. Without hesitation, I squeeze the trigger twice, watching as they crumple to the ground, crimson staining the floor beneath them. Grabbing Rachel's hand, I press on towards the stairs.
Our mansion boasts only one staircase, and it sits directly opposite the front door—a strategic vulnerability we can't afford to overlook. Before we advance, I motion for Rachel to stay put behind a nearby wall while I assess our surroundings.
The relentless pounding of the battering ram against the mansion's door echoes through the silence, a stark reminder of the imminent threat outside. The eerie quiet within suggests either an evacuation or capture—except for us. I need to stall for time; one wrong move and we'll walk straight into the enemy's trap the moment they breach the door.
I switch my rifle to full-auto and squeeze the trigger. The M4 bucks against my shoulder with each round, the relentless stream of bullets tearing through the air towards the soldiers hammering at the front door. I doubt the door stands a chance against the onslaught of copper-jacketed projectiles.
As the banging ceases, I swiftly eject the spent magazine, stashing it in my leather bag before loading a fresh one, brimming with sixty rounds. With Rachel in tow, I urge us both onward, descending the stairs without hesitation.
"Why are we running, Helen?" Rachel's question catches me off guard, but I don't pause to answer. The urgency is clear—we need to escape, and fast. The well, our only means of fleeing this madness, lies dead center in the mansion, adjacent to the kitchen. But if we dawdle, we'll be facing a swarm of soldiers with no way out but through them.
BOOM.
A shower of debris pelts me, a sharp blow to the head sending me reeling to the ground. Despite the searing pain, I push through, scrambling to my feet and instinctively checking on Rachel.
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She lies against the wall, a large chunk of rubble dangerously close. Ignoring my own injuries, I haul her up, urgency driving me forward. "We've got to go, Rachel, get up!" I urge, my voice edged with desperation. She rises slowly, clutching her stomach in agony.
"Helen, you're bleeding from your head, are you okay?" Rachel's concern is evident as she grimaces through the pain. I press my hand to my throbbing skull, withdrawing it to find it smeared with crimson. But there's no time to dwell on injuries, not with soldiers closing in on our position.
With one hand steadying Rachel, I raise my M4 with the other, firing off rounds to keep the advancing soldiers at bay. My head pounds with each movement, a sharp, relentless ache, but I push through, focused solely on getting us to safety. Without a second glance at the breach in the wall, we press on, determined to outrun the danger nipping at our heels.
"Helen, we need to stop, I can't keep going," Rachel gasps, her breath ragged. Her struggle to keep pace mirrors my own, our lack of fitness glaringly apparent as we push ourselves to the brink.
Ignoring her plea, I tighten my grip on her hand, pulling her forward with determined resolve. I can't afford to let us falter now, not when our lives hang in the balance, especially after the altercation with the soldiers.
"Helen, please, I can't..." Rachel's plea is cut short by my sharp command.
"Shut up!" I snap, my voice harsh with urgency. It's a harsh truth, but stopping is not an option. I press on, dragging her along despite the increasing weight slowing me down. Amidst the chaos of cannonballs raining down around us, the scent of something burning tickles my nostrils, but there's no time to dwell on it.
Up ahead, I catch sight of a servant being held captive by a soldier. Without hesitation, the soldier raises his rifle, and before I can process the brutality, I react instinctively, a single round from my rifle finding its mark. I can't be sure, but I doubt he survived the shot.
We reach the kitchen, the air heavy with the scent of charred wood from the ongoing chaos. Making a beeline for the well, I find the small, unadorned room as it usually is—plain and utilitarian, with only the well for drawing water. It's a simple space, devoid of any comfort or decoration.
"Rachel, hey, Rachel," I call out, giving her a shake in an attempt to snap her back to reality.
"Helen, I can't do this. We're going to die," Rachel's voice quavers with fear, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Placing both hands on her shoulders, I meet her gaze with a steely resolve. "Look, we've come too far to give up now. Surrendering isn't an option. If I give in, it's a death sentence. You have a choice—follow me or stay here. But remember, Father and Mother are likely gone already."
My words hang heavy in the air, the weight of our situation pressing down on us as we stand on the precipice of survival.
The gunfire outside grows louder, a grim reminder that our time in the kitchen is running out. It's now or never—enter the well and take our chances below, or face the inevitable onslaught of soldiers with nowhere left to hide. I've resigned myself to the likelihood of a deadly confrontation if we stay.
Glancing down at the well, I consider our options. The rope appears sturdy enough to support both of us. I could descend alone, venturing into the unknown depths below. It's a risk, but surely better than facing certain death outside. I've already made my decision to fight, knowing capture is not an option.
Suddenly, Rachel's hand grips mine, her voice trembling as she speaks. "Promise me we'll stick together," she implores, offering her pinky in a solemn gesture.
"I promise," I affirm, entwining my pinky with hers in a pact of solidarity. "Do you know the way?"
"I do," Rachel nods, conjuring a faint orb of light with her hand. With a silent agreement, I instruct Rachel to descend first, relieved to find that the steel bucket affixed to the rope can support both of our weights. As she lowers herself into the darkness below, I follow, steeling myself for whatever awaits us in the depths of the well.
Stepping onto the bucket, I lower us down carefully, the descent feeling endless until we finally reach the bottom of the well. The water level rises to my chest, just reaching Rachel's abdomen. But our relief is short-lived as we realize the entrance to the hidden hideout is submerged in the murky water.
Rachel illuminates a small hole with her light orb, barely large enough for an adult to crawl through. With a deep breath, she plunges into the water, disappearing into the darkness beyond the opening.