Brass Skies vol 2 (Draft)

Hope Must Die Part 10

Leopold visited Hope one more time. There was so much he wanted to say to her, but he kept most of it to himself and kept what he did say brief. "I've come to tell you goodbye, Hope. I'm sorry, there's nothing else I can do for you," he said flatly as he walked into the room.

Hope had been standing in the back corner of the room facing the wall when he came in. She turned around and gazed at him exhaustedly. "I know," she said softly. "But can we at least discuss what you said before?"

"There's no time, and no point," Leopold replied. "We've gotten orders that you're to be transported to the king's personal prison this evening. There are preparations I need to make. One of the ladies will be in shortly to escort you to the powder and to bring you something to eat. You won't see me again until the transport arrives."

"Leopold, listen to me, please," Hope begged, her green eyes pleading in vein for him to listen, but he turned his back on her and reached for the door.

"It's alright Hope, I already know what you're going to say. I was out of line earlier, and I apologize. It won't happen again. I know you don't feel the same way," Leopold said in a voice that managed to sound simultaneously both raspy and tight as he walked through the door.

"But I," Hope started, but the sound of the door slamming shut cut her off. "Do," she finished lamely, sinking down in the corner to cry once again.

***

Several hours later, night was approaching once again. An exhausted Hope was roughly escorted by Leopold and two men she didn't recognize through the building and out a back door where a nondescript box carriage was waiting. Aside from telling her it was time when he came to collect her, he remained stubbornly silent despite her attempts to engage him.

After one of the men opened the doors at the rear of the carriage, Leopold told her to get in. When she hesitated, and started to say something, he gave her a rough shove that caused her to stumble towards the carriage. She stepped up into the carriage and took a seat on one of the long wooden benches that lined both sides. She looked back at him as he coldly slammed the metal doors in her face.

She heard Leopold talking to someone but couldn't make out what he was saying. A few minutes later the carriage jerked forward and began jolting along at a steady pace.

For the first forty-five minutes to an hour, the ride was relatively uneventful. But at some point she heard something metallic click. That was followed by an ominous hissing noise. Almost immediately, Hope began coughing. She pound on the sides and the front of the compartment, but to no avail. After a few moments she blacked out.

***

When Hope awoke, the carriage was on its side and one of the back doors partially torn off the hinges. Aside from feeling groggy and light headed, she herself was miraculously unhurt which immediately set off warning bells in her foggy mind. She crawled toward the door and paused, listening. When she didn't hear anything for several seconds aside from the wind, the sound of a distant bell occasionally clapping, and a few insects she finally decided to risk peaking out.

From her angle, she couldn't see much. The only things she could make out were cobblestones, some distant lights slightly obscured by a light fog, and some distant shapes she couldn't really make out.

She waited a few more minutes, and when she still didn't see or hear anything, she repositioned herself so she was lying on her back and she used her feet to kick the door the rest of the way open. It took several tries, each of which sounded like a shotgun in her mind, but eventually the door fell open and she was able to crawl out.

Once she was out, she managed to get a good look around. Nothing around her made any sense to her. The box-coach she had just crawled out was in the middle of what looked like a relatively deserted wharf along a riverbank. Though the landscape was completely unfamiliar to her, Hope figured it had to be the Thames since there were very few large rivers left near London.

A few small barges and sailing ships were docked at the wharf, but most were completely dark. Crates, boxes, and empty cargo wagons were scattered around what was essentially a large lot paved with cobblestones. Off to the side were several buildings, all of which were dark, and the closest ones had heavy padlocks visibly securing the doors. Hope did not see a single Human in sight.

Not seeing anyone in the immediate vicinity, hope decided to take a closer look at the overturned box-coach. What she found made little sense to her. As she made her way along the underside of the box-coach, an overturned cargo wagon came into view. At first glance, it looked very much like the two had collided, but a closer look showed that the damage done to both was relatively superficial and far too minor for a collision that would overturn two vehicles. Furthermore, there was no sign of either the horses or the drivers.

She checked the cab of the cargo wagon and found nothing useful, only the usual amount of trash she would expect, though all of it seemed too fresh for her taste. She decided to switch to the cab of the box-coach.

The glass of the cab was smashed, so there was no need to climb over the coach. Like the cargo-wagon there was the usual assortment of trash, though most of this was less fresh. A quick search of the glove box yielded some street maps of various cities and towns, a pair of handcuffs, and a mostly loaded pistol. As she spun the cylinder, she realized there was a bullet missing.

Feeling uneasy, Hope debated grabbing the pistol for a moment. Nothing in this situation seemed right, and Hope knew that the pistol's presence was both too convenient and most likely a setup. She briefly considered leaving it where it was, but ultimately decided, with her life the way things were, she had nothing left to lose.

Hope had just grabbed the pistol when she heard a noise coming from behind the box-coach. Keeping the gun at the ready, she cautiously peeked around the top of the coach. Not seeing anything, she made her way toward the rear.

Suddenly, Leopold stepped into view, his own gun also at the ready. He relaxed, slightly. "I'm surprised to still see you here, Hope," he commented. "I would have expected you to run already."

Before Hope could answer, she heard a sound behind her, and then a gunshot. A splotch of red appeared in Leopold's arm. To her horror, he raised his gun and fired in one smooth motion.

Looking like something somewhere between a pistol and a double-barreled shotgun, the gun Leopold fired sounded like a small cannon.

The force of the blast felt almost like a cannon to Hope as well. It literally knocked Hope off her feet and sent her falling backwards. When she landed, her chest and back hurt so much she could barely draw in a breath. The gun she held fell limply from her fingers.

Suddenly, Leopold was standing over her, kicking her gun away. He knelt down beside her and reached into his jacket, pulling out a syringe.

"It... wasn't... me," Hope managed to get out between coughing fits.

"I know," Leopold replied softly. Then he thrust the syringe into her arm.

"I... l-lo..." Hope made a valiant effort to tell him she loved him, but blackness claimed her too quickly.

 ***