Meriwether Lewis's Death

October 11, 1809

Followed. 

I am being followed. 

They're nearby, behind me, somewhere there... They want me gone, they want me dead. They want money. I don't have money... 

---

The governor of Louisiana found himself paranoid. 

Carrying wealth, he often lied to himself and others to stay out of trouble. He had money. 

Meriwether bit at his nails, glancing around in caution. His caution had reason. There is some unpredictable, yet all the predictable, things that can happen when you lead with quite the different opinions. 

Sure, he had various people who hated him, he just never expected one to be his servant. Actually, it's all the expected. 

But what wasn't expected was the events that took place this night.

Strange events leaving Meriwether Lewis alone, dead, bled out on the floor. The fact he had been taken so brutally from the world. 

And people believed it was suicide. 

Clark, his best friend of many years, was told it had been suicide. 

You have probably heard it was suicide... But think... was it really? 

-

Lewis's P.O.V

Disgruntled, I let myself into a hotel room, stumbling. 

(Pathetic...)

Shut it. 

(Surely you can see that what you're doing is not helping...)

I can't help myself, so I mustn't ponder the subject all that seriously. 

I couldn't help but sneer at the conversation in my head. It was always strange how I argued with myself. 

"Cla-..." I almost found myself calling to someone I hadn't thought of in quite awhile.

William Clark, my Billy. I can't believe I shoved the memories of him so far back into my mind, it's only now, when I am drunk and alone, he returns. 

A knock, followed by two more, caught my attention as I pulled the door open. Three men. 

They had followed me. 

"Lewis." 

"I thought I asked- no, told- you to stop following me." I hissed. 

The men glanced between one another. 

(They'll kill you.)

They won't get the chance. 

(Just let them kill you...)

No, there's a reason for me to live. 

(Clark has forgotten about you...)

I stare. The thought was a lie, but I can't help but question if the voice had reason. Those intimate moments they shared, those years they spent together. Had they all been for nothing?

"Lewis." A stern voice growled. 

"I said leave." 

Without thought, I grabbed my pistol I had left on a nearby table. I pointed it at the three. "I will have the each of you dead if you don't retreat immediately." 

The three, those godforsaken three, left. I stumbled back, catching myself on the door. 

(They'll be back...)