Storm and Silence(306)

I had just reached that resolution when we came to the foot of the hill.

It started slowly, so slowly I hardly noticed at first. The cart tilted slightly, and my arms, which had already been screaming before, were now howling in agony. At first I thought it was just the exhaustion, but the rise became steeper and steeper, until I finally realized: we were going up a hill.

‘Bloody… hell! This has to be… the slowest chase in the… history of the world!’

‘Shut up and push, Mr Linton!’

On the plus side: the hill turned out to only a small one. On the minus side: after it came another, and another, and another. God! Wasn't this ever going to stop? My fingers were raw from the rough wood of the handle, and all thoughts of what Mr Ambrose thought of my figure had left me. I couldn’t think of anything, anymore. There was just the next push, the next turn of the wheel.

Finally, I collapsed onto the wooden platform. My arms felt like burning splints of tinder, my clothes were drenched in sweat, and my last piece of strength was gone. I couldn’t move an inch.

‘Get up,’ Mr Ambrose’s voice commanded from somewhere above me. ‘You can’t keep the cart moving if you’re lying on the floor, Mr Linton.’

‘Geez… you don’t… say!’

‘Yes, I do say. Get up!’

‘I… I can’t.’ The voice that came out of my throat didn’t sound like my own. It was the croak of some half-starved crow. ‘I… can’t. I’m sorry.’

Unsurprisingly, he wasn’t very moved by my apology.

‘I order you to get up, Mr Linton!’

‘Oh, go stick it where the sun doesn’t shine!’

There was a pause. Then:

‘I knew it.’ The ice in his voice sent a chill down my back. ‘I knew this would happen sooner or later. You’re nothing but a weak, feminine girl! A man in your place wouldn’t-’

He broke off. But he didn’t need to finish the sentence. I could imagine its ending all too well. Suddenly, energy surged through me. Not strength, no, but something even better: anger!

‘A man would what?’ I snapped, raising my eyes from the floor to glare at him. He just shook his head.

‘Forget it, Mr Linton. It doesn't matter anymore.’ Letting go of the see-saw, he stepped back, his expression stoic. He wasn’t even looking at me! He was gazing off into the distance, his mouth set in a resigned line. He was giving up! Giving up because I was a girl!

‘It bloody well does!’

With a gut-wrenching effort, I scrambled to my feet and grabbed hold of the wooden handle. ‘Where’s your stomach? Get hold of that handle and start moving! We’re not beaten yet! Not by a long shot!’

He observed me for a moment through slightly narrowed eyes, as I stood there, legs shaking, hands clasped around the handle.

‘But you’re too weak to do this. You said so yourself.’

‘I? I never said anything of the sort! Let’s get going!’

Something twitched at the corner of his mouth. I blinked. Had I seen right? Could that have been the shadow of a smile? But no! Why would he smile? What was there to smile about, here and now?

‘All right… If you’re sure you can handle it…’

I had to be mistaken! Rikkard Ambrose never smiled.

‘Yes, I’m bloody sure! What are you waiting for?’

Another moment of silence passed. Then he gave a curt nod and abruptly took hold of the other end of the see-saw once more.

‘Well, if you insist, Mr Linton.’

He shoved down so hard it nearly lifted me off my feet. I gathered all my strength and pushed, and let loose, and pushed, and let loose. From then on, I kept up, although the pace he set nearly killed me. I wouldn’t give up again for anything, not after what he had said! Ha! Weak, feminine girl indeed…!

We were already halfway up the hill when it occurred to me that he might have said that on purpose, just to get me off the floor and moving again. But no… He didn’t know me that well, did he?

Yes, he does, that little annoying voice whispered in my ear.

I told it to shut up and help my aching arms.

I pushed and pulled and pushed. But although I gave it my best effort, we still were only moving as fast as an old lady’s carriage drawn by a horse with two lame legs. I estimated our stunning speed at about one mile per hour. Fortunately, the soldiers behind us seemed to have troubles, too. To judge by the voices I heard echoing behind me in the tunnel, there appeared to be more than two of them on the draisine, and the added weight was making it difficult for them to get up the latest hillside.

But that didn’t make my burning arms feel any better.