It’s only when the gunfire and shouting has become distant, with the battle’s dead left to the quiet and the crows, that we make our move. Soap is first, dropping straight from his perch in the tree’s tallest branches and rolling when he lands. After a few glances around he looks back up at us.
“Let’s get moving.”
Easier said. Felix struggles with the branches on account of his arm, and neither of us can take a fall like Soap can. It takes me a few minutes to help him shift step by step until we’re low enough to tumble free without twisting an ankle. Once we’re down I lead the way clear of the trees, staying low. The first body isn’t far after that.
He’s on his back with his legs almost straight, like a statue that’s toppled over. His hat has fallen off though, crushing the red plumage on its side, and his boyish curls are loose in the muddy grass. His musket is still on him, clutched to his chest in one hand. I pull it free, letting his arm slip off the grip, and start checking for damage. It’s difficult to snag a working one. Usually someone will grab the weapons as the fight moves so they won’t need replaced after, and even when they’re left, they often end up ruined by rain or so old you wonder why the man carrying it even bothered to bring it. This one looks mostly intact though, so I sling it over my shoulder as I check his coat. The red fabric is dark and sticky with his blood. Men’s coats rarely fit me anyway, so I leave it be and skip to the pockets. Coppers, spare rounds, some biscuits, a watch. I click it open and find a picture of a young woman pressed into the cover. I toss it to Soap.
“Pretty.”
“The watch, idiot. Worth anything?”
“Steel rather than silver. But I could use a watch.” He pauses a second, seeing me looking at him as he pockets it in his own stolen coat.
“You’re pretty too, Kez.”
“Go check another, shithead.”
He heads over to help Felix, who’s trying to pry a bottle open with his teeth. I mull over whether it’s still worth having Soap around. We picked him up months ago, and he’s kept hush about where he came from. You can tell he’s from money by the way he talks, but it’s hard to know why he’d leave that behind. He’s handsome, and not bad on a cold night as it turns out, but he can be an arrogant prick when he wants. Regardless, its better having someone to talk to. Felix hasn’t spoken since he lost his arm.
The next body is slumped up against a dead horse. He looks to have been the rider, as he’s dressed differently than the others. Cavalry are usually better off than the footsloggers. I toss my bag and the gun aside as I set to work cutting away the buttons on his fancy coat. He stinks of sweat, long blond hair plastered to his face by it, so I try to get things done quick. I find the wound when I pull it open, a bloody hole at his hip staining his white shirt. Probably shattered the bone but wouldn’t have hit anything important. By the time I realise I’ve fucked up his hand is on my throat.
I start screaming as best I can, but his grip is too tight. His eyes are open now, half lidded as he strains to keep his hold on me. His other hand is fumbling at the ground. I swing my fist into his gut, only to realise I’ve dropped the knife, so I bring my other around into his wound. He lets out an agonised curse, but his hand doesn’t loosen. Suddenly he pulls me forward, bringing his forehead into my nose, and my vision goes black. When it returns, I see my blood smeared on his brow and taste more in my mouth. There’s a shout behind us and Soap is standing with the gun I found. He hesitates, looking down the barrel from me to the soldier.
“Get your hands off her.”
The soldier pulls me in, and my face is pushed into the dead horse’s flank. When I’ve kicked around enough to see again the soldier’s other hand has stopped fumbling, and now holds the long pistol he was searching for, levelled at Soap.
“Give it up, lad. That rifle isn’t loaded. If it was then at that angle the shot would roll out the barrel.”
“Yeah right.” Soap shifts his feet awkwardly. Felix appears at his side, staring at me like a worried child. I try to look as if I’m in control, so he doesn’t panic. The blood pouring from my nose makes it difficult. A moment passes, the four of us locked there, before Soap speaks again.
“You’ve only got one shot. You can’t shoot all three of us.” The soldier lets out a laugh that turns into a choking cough. My face is close enough that I see the spittle fall down his scruffy chin.
“Suppose I just shoot you and throttle this little bitch? Will cripple boy save you?” Felix is shaking horribly, pawing at the tied cloth that hides his stump. Soap nudges him with his shoulder, but it only makes it worse.
“Where’d you lot come from? You’re not Spaniards or French.” I try to reply, but he’s still choking off my words. After a second, he loosens his grip just enough to let me speak.
“Army. Our mother followed the 23rd.” Only true for Felix and me, but Soap doesn’t correct it. For a second, I think he’ll take the shot while I’ve got the fucker distracted, but he doesn’t. Scared he’ll hit me, maybe, or he really thinks the rifle isn’t loaded. Useless. The soldier shakes his head.
“Some camp whore’s brats. She the one that taught you to steal from your own?”
“They aren’t using it anymore.” He slams the butt of the pistol into my temple. Soap and Felix begin to move, but he quickly has the gun raised again. His arm is shaky now though. He’s lost a lot of blood.
“Don’t you have any fucking pride? Want Napoleon to waltz across the sea and take over?” Soap has noticed the shaking too, and it’s made him more confident. He’s back to aiming down the sight.
“An emperor instead of a king? Not much different to us.”
“See how different you feel when some Frenchman shoves a bayonet up your-” The soldier trails off into more coughing, and his aim veers wildly to the side toward Felix. Soap grins, lowering the gun.
“You can’t walk, can you? That’s why you won’t shoot. You need us.” The soldier is still wheezing for a moment before he can reply.
“Like fuck I do. I could crawl out of here if I needed to.” Soap shakes his head, swinging the musket behind him toward the field scattered with bodies in red coats.
“These are all yours. That says to me you’re losing this one. The next people to come this way will be wearing the wrong colours, so if we don’t help you, you’ll die here.” The soldier’s face twists. He doesn’t lower the gun, but it’s clear Soap is correct. His jaw moves like he’s chewing for a second, before he takes in a deep breath.
“Look,” he says, straightening up in an attempt to gather more presence around himself, “I can help you too. You like living out here? Picking at bodies for scraps? You help me and you can be done with this.”
Soap gives him a curious look.
“And go home? To England?” The soldier pauses, before nodding slowly.
“Got folk there? Imagine how glad they’d be to see you.” Soap is listening closely now, the gun low in his grip. I start kicking around, but he’s intent on this soldier now. The hand tightens again, but I manage to shout past it.
“He can’t even walk, how’s he going to take us to England?” They’re still focused on one another. The only one paying me any mind is Felix, who keeps looking between me and Soap.
“Get me out of here, help me heal up, and I’ll get you back, lad. I swear.” Soap holds his gaze for a second longer, before looking to me. I can see the desperation in his eyes. Clearly, he still has a few relatives he thinks will take him in. The only family Felix and I had died here in Spain. I watch him, and I don’t give any clues. Finally, he looks at the soldier.
“You’ve got a deal.”
His hand finally releases me, and I take a second to rub at my neck as Soap moves over to help him up. The soldier gets his arm over his shoulder and starts pushing at the ground clumsily with his feet. He can move them a little, but they won’t take his weight. Soap angles under his arm to support him more, and slowly they rise from alongside the dead horse. The soldier still has his long pistol in his hand, and he holds it toward Soap as he’s helped up.
“Nothing funny, boy, nothing funny. You behave and we’ll be back in England by year’s end.”
Once I think he’s turned away from me, I look around where he was sat. There’s a smear of blood from his wounded side, and some of the buttons I cut away, as well as my knife. Suddenly the gun is on me again.
“You can leave that, girl. C’mon, get in front where I can keep my eye on you.” I gesture to Felix, who’s staring at the spot I’m looking over.
“He’ll want your buttons. He collects them.” The soldier looks Felix in the eye, who shies away. When he looks back to me his face is full of contempt.
“Then he can get them himself. He’s got one good arm.”
Reluctantly I stand and walk forward, the pistol aimed at me the whole way. Once the soldier has it pressed into my back, he gives me a shove and I begin leading us back toward the trees. The bodies make it impossible to walk straight, so we make a slow, winding path through the outstretch limbs of the dead. There’s a smattering of birds picking away at them now, and they hop lazily away as I pass.
“Are we winning the war?” Soap’s question breaks the quiet of our strange march, and the soldier’s reply takes a moment as he grunts through another painful step.
“How the fuck should I know? Ask Wellington.” I feel a nudge from the gun. “Where are you lot set up?”
“Just outside Camarena. There’s a man in town named Mateo who buys what we find. He’s good with English, if you need someone to-“
“I don’t need anything from Mateo.” He says the name like it doesn’t fit his mouth right. After he finishes speaking, I realize there’s a sound in the distance. Men marching. The soldier curses, shoving the gun at me and urging me to pick up the pace.
“Just my luck getting stuck with the slowest shits in Spain. Where’s the cripple? If that little fucker is still thieving, I’ll cut his other arm off.”
He tries to turn in Soap’s arm to look for Felix, and the pressure on my back disappears. The moment it does I spin round and wrestle the gun into the air. It goes off just to the side of my head, the crack ringing in my ear. Soap starts shouting, asking me what I’m doing, while the soldier struggles, trying to lower the pistol to hit me. I push my nails into the skin of his palm, drawing blood as he swings his elbow into my head. Then he stops with a dull wheeze.
The knife pulls free from his side, quivering in Felix’s grasp, and the soldier looks dumbly at me as I release his arm. His feet give out and Soap lowers him to the ground, silent and confused. Felix doesn’t resist as I take the blade off him. The soldier is still trying to rasp words out as I kneel beside him, to gurgle some final curse against us. A quick cut and he’s done. I rub the knife into his fancy red coat before I sheath it again. As I stand, I catch Soap staring at me with shock. I pull the musket from where it’s slung over his shoulder.
“Next time, you shoot.”
I give Felix’s hair a tussle and head off with him close behind. When I don’t hear Soap follow, I turn to see him still standing over the body.
“Anyone could have heard that gun go off. We need to go.”
“He would’ve taken us home, Kez.” His hair has fallen over his face, and he’s shaking like Felix does. I walk back over and take him by the shoulders. I can see the tears clearly now, and in the moment, he looks like a scared little boy. A part of me wants to slap him, but instead I pull him into a hug.
“Maybe he would have. Maybe he would’ve killed and robbed us as soon as he could walk. Maybe he would’ve taken us to his army, and you’d be some soldier and I’d be some camp girl. It doesn’t matter. He was dangerous, so now he’s dead.”
His eyes are still wet, but he isn’t shaking any more. I let him go and wipe my face, before bending down to take the pistol from the soldier’s stiff hand. Soap takes it when I offer and slides it into his coat, before grabbing some powder and spare rounds. We set back off for the woods two guns richer. The sound of marching carries ever louder from over the hills, but by the time they arrive, we’ll be gone.
Autumn Eternal Fiction 