The FEDS Pact

Chapter Three

My senses were gradually revived, starting with a game of touch. Then the light hit me. At first that was all I could see, a vast expanse of bright yellow in every way as plain and wearisome as the blackness experienced in sleep. Eventually I advanced to a sitting position, propping my back as I did so against something that was rough but solid at the same time. I assumed it were a tree. That’s when the pain hit me, another sense of which had recovered to greet my hangover from COMING BACK TO LIFE! Sorry I had to emphasise that, not everyone gets the chance in life to regenerate and I was one of those almighty gifted souls. Anyways the pain came as a throbbing sensation deep within my skull as if I’d suffered from a concussion, which despite being unrelated reminded me of the wound featured on my cheek of which I’d gained a few days earlier. Well I assumed at least I hadn’t been out too long. So feeling blindly with on hand I seeked out the wound expecting it to be lingering with infection but instead, surprisingly so finding it to be bandaged up.

“Why couldn’t I have just stayed dead!” I grumbled in discontent, my eyelids flickering closed again trying to retreat to the safety of the darkness. It wasn’t to be though. I’d returned to the land of the living and for the time being at least I was stuck there with all its burdens back into play. “Hey! Keep your eyes open! I sure ain’t having you drifting out on me again” came the shrill, upper class voice of a boy of a similar age to mine. That’s when he shook me, again and again and again until I had no option but to open my eyes if I were to avoid puking. For the first time I found myself face to face with the boy of whom I’d saved, close enough to examine even the most irrelevant of features. He was a little taller than I’d originally assumed, a considerable bit more muscular as well with wide forearms. His skin complexion was a fair one and although he still looked one beat up guy his hair and clothes had been cleaned up since I last saw him. Well as clean as one could make themselves in the environment.

From my surroundings of dense woodland and the fact he’d had an unconscious Huck to deal with I guessed we were in the general affinity of where all the action kicked off. From my sitting position at least I didn’t have eyes on the road but I could feel we were close, just far enough from its reach to avoid being spotted by any travellers. While I’d been drifting back into reality and had been studying my new comrade he’d been studying me with equal curiosity although he must’ve had hours of it. “H…How long have I been out?” I began with a throaty cough. The boy passed me a canteen filled with water noticing the need for my thirst to be quenched and I received it with a thankful grasp. “A couple o’ days, you’re lucky you came through. I thought for sure you were a gonner” he replied with a wry smile, hand on my forehead to check my temperature. “Then why help me?” I asked in confusion. “I could ask you the same question” he pointed out cynically followed by my saying “you have a point there” in consensus.

There was another period of silence in which I examined the camp that seemingly had been prepared solely by the boy in front of me. He didn’t seem to have any allies of his own. There was a campfire preparing some form of broth, hanging over it a row of drying clothes. Other than that a rolled out mat for sleeping was all that was present of human intervention. “Huck, that’s my name. Huckleberry” I broke out almost randomly wanting to break the tension. In reply the boy smiled and said “how’s it going Huck? I’m Jordan. Jordan Gallagher”.

So the conversation really kicked off from there now he wasn’t simply referred to as “the boy” to me. We traded stories and it soon became apparent I wasn’t the only one who’d put up an incredible amount of thrills lately. I soon discovered he was native of the town of Lyon and son of the powerful Gallagher family so unlike myself he’d travelled a considerable bit, even to Paris on one occasion though I ain’t sure if that were a stretcher. He sure was well spoken and all but people of only the utmost importance reported to the capital.

Turned out Jordan, his folks and the rest of his extended family had had a feud going down which unfortunately for him four nights ago had come at an enormous cost. The Couture family, his rivals in the feud had launched a surprise attack whilst the occupants of the Gallagher mansion were at rest. The attack was apparently in retaliation to the death of the Couture’s eldest son Xavier at the hands of a Gallagher troop. There were no survivors, excluding Jordan of course he managed to flee but not without one darn long term pursuit, those were the guys I shot at. According to Jordan they could be back for him at any given moment and me now, apparently the Couture’s middle child Josef was a resilient soul and wouldn’t rest until justice had been served against any who did badly to his family. I later found that Josef were the guy with long blond hair of whom had given the order to retreat when I took out two of his men.     

Jordan listened to my stories with the utmost sincerity and respect as I had to his. Neither of us tried to say our condolences for the others losses, we both knew sorry couldn’t cut it. In some messed up way it were the brutal ends to our loved ones that set the foundations to a very long and successful friendship. The story telling was finished and then there was only one thing left to say. “Where are we going to go?” asked Jordan with a glint in his eyes one of which drifted lazily but you could still tell he was excited for the start of a new life with one unknown and controversial character if you don’t mind me saying so. “I was headed to Bourges” I replied with a shrug. “Bourges, I can live with that” he confirmed reaching out a grubby hand for me to take. I took it, for the first time in a while back on my feet and ready to take to the road although this time for the first time in my life I were to take to the road with an ally, a friend.