CHAPTER SONG: "Time Is Running Out" by Muse
Emmanuelle followed Schofield up the rickety wooden stairs that led back up to the burning civilization of Ecoust, his still bandaged hand grasping onto hers as though something from the shadows waited to snatch her away from him.
Emmy had the bayonet that detached from his rifle tied to her waist by a crude ribbon sash from her dress. She could feel Schofield glancing back at her every few seconds to see if she could handle it without trouble.
"Will, you don't have to keep checking on me like a nervous mother." Emmy chastised her Lance Corporal, knowing he meant well in a chivalrous way. "I'm from a different era where women can handle themselves without a man constantly at their side."
Schofield only stared at her face in response to her statement before giving a brisk nod in her direction. His eyes exposed his processing her words, but his stoic attitude would only drive her further into insanity.
Emmy could tell he was somewhat offended by her slight refusal of his protective tendency toward her and the guilt washed over her like a tidal wave.
She grabbed onto his uniform sleeve right as they reached the door, stopping the soldier in his tracks. Her hands grabbed onto his vest and she gently pushed him to lean on the closed door.
Schofield placed the rifle at his side, placing his much larger hands upon her shoulders before moving them to cradle her neck, his thumbs skimming along her jaw-line.
"Emmanuelle, hours ago you had almost drowned because I wasn't careful enough getting across that damn canal." He half-whispered to her, quietly seething with anxiety and irritation. "If you were to be harmed in any way, in my era or yours, I could never forgive myself."
Emmy reached up on her tiptoes, pressing her lips to his in a gratifying kiss. Schofield reciprocated her act of affection with as much if not more unbridled passion beyond what words could express. The temptation to take her back to that room below and show her everything he was feeling...
Their kiss broke apart as they caught their breaths, knowing they were only delaying the inevitable. They couldn't stay in this rundown shack of a building forever.
Schofield leaned down toward Emmy, pressing his forehead to hers, his good hand stroking her cheek with his fingertips. She had never felt more treasured than when this man was touching her. Her eyes closed in contentment; however misguided it was to feel something so strong for a man she had only known for such a short span of time.
"Blake was right. You really are my knight in shining armor." She chuckled, feeling Schofield's lips pull into a smile against her mouth as he kissed her again. "My champion..."
Schofield huffed out a choked breath, gulping to withdraw a growl of arousal. "Emmanuelle, I'm no hero. I'm only trying to do what's right."
The faint shouting in Germanic dialect caused them to pull away from each other, reminding the two of where they were and what was happening.
Schofield grabbed up the rifle again, his free hand holding Emmy's as she stood behind him. He turned to look at her, wanting to think of something to assure her that they would escape this nightmare of a labyrinth alive.
Not being a man of many words, he could only express his feelings with his actions; lifting up her hand to his lips and kissing her fingers with all the reverence of a knight swearing loyalty to a queen.
That action alone meant more to her than any proclamation he previously made to protect her, more so than the words they had said to each other in the basement.
On the other side of that barrier was a hellish underworld above the earth where anything could kill them and they would need to rely on each other to make it out unscathed.
Schofield opened the door with caution, looking to either side before walking through the threshold and leading Emmy outside into the smoke fumed air. She struggled not to inhale too much of the polluted atmosphere, but another approaching coughing fit prevented her from preserving her lungs.
She covered her mouth, praying Schofield would be too occupied with surveying the area for resistance to hear her attempts to keep silent. His hand held hers tightly, keeping her still positioned behind him as a precaution.
Emmanuelle managed to catch her breath for the time being, her lungs burning with a dull ache. Was the smoke inhalation getting to her?
Was it her body telling her how exhausted she was and needed to have a long sleep and a decent meal?
Goosebumps racked her body as she shivered despite the heat in the air surrounding her, sweating as though she were trapped in a baking oven.
She looked above as the sky, relieved to see the dark blue of approaching dawn and the moon fading amongst the clouds.
Schofield pulled her around a corner, causing her to almost trip as he froze in his gait. Stepping forward to see what may have spooked him, she saw another figure standing in the shadows. Amid the ruins of the building structure looming over them, there stood a young German soldier from what she could deduce from his uniform.
Her lance corporal was still as a statue as they locked eyes. Emmanuelle was maneuvered behind Schofield to keep her out of the German's line of sight.
Another male voice, slurred from intoxication, sounded behind her as the source came stumbling from the other side of the ruined building, bending over to vomit presumably from too much alcohol consumption. Even from his drunken pronunciation, she couldn't decipher a word of English.
Panicking, Schofield rushed up to the young German soldier, pinning him to a wide column of the building and holding his hand over his mouth to keep him quiet. Emmanuelle was stuck where she stood, unsure of what to do as her hands grasped onto the bayonet at her side.
Schofield still had the German pinned against the column, slowly removing his hand as he prayed for the younger man to keep silent.
All that hope was in vain, however...
"ENGLANDER!" The German soldier shouted to alert his inebriated comrade of their presence.
A scream built in Emmy's throat as she saw Schofield tackle the German to the ground. She could hear the other one call out for his friend, presumably saying his name along with other words she couldn't understand.
Both her valiant Lance Corporal and the German continued to fight for dominance on the ground, silhouetted so deep into the shadows that Emmanuelle couldn't tell who was winning. One of them had their hands around the other's throat in a chokehold.
She untied the bayonet from her waist, prepared to use it to ensure Schofield's well-being.
"Baumer?" The drunken German came up behind Emmy, causing her to turn around in shock.
Gripping tightly onto the daggered weapon, she didn't have the sense to even consider if the man was sober enough to notice that his comrade was being wrestled to the death by a British soldier. Their scuffling continued in the background, groaning and struggling sounds of desperation roaring in her ears.
Before he could lay a finger on her or even look into her eyes, she held up the bayonet with all her might and plunged it into his chest. A primal wail erupted from her tormented throat as she plummeted to the floor along with the fallen German drunk, blood leaking out of his fatal wound like water into a sieve.
His eyes remained open, the life in them fading away and replaced with the dull fog of post-mortem.
She had just killed a man...
She had taken a human life...
She had done it more for William Schofield than for herself... She needed him to stay alive.
The stinging tears she had only just then noticed flooded down her face, her chest heaving with the sobs for everything endured in less than the twenty four hours she had been in the year 1917.
Ignorant of the various fluids leaking over her skin, the sweat sticking her mussed hair to her forehead, snot down from her nose and the tears of salt washing away the gunpowder fingerprints leftover from Schofield's caresses upon her cheeks, Emmanuelle knew she would never be the same after this day.
She was no longer the innocent American tourist girl buying a book from the Imperial War Museum gift shop, taking advantage of a final night in London.
She was a survivor and a woman fighting to protect what she loved and to gain the knowledge of where her home was.
Emmanuelle knelt on her knees, her shaking hands still grasping onto the bayonet stuck inside the German's chest.
A pair of hands grasped onto her elbows, quickly pulling her away from the corpse as gunshots fired around her.
"Emmy, we have to go! Get up!" Schofield yelled as his voice reverberated into a buzzing noise and her brain wanted to shut down. She was numb, being pulled to her feet and made to follow the Lance Corporal.
His hand was a vice around hers; the girl's fingers not even feeling enough to grasp his in response. She felt unworthy of his protection, of even a passing thought in his mind, let alone his love.
The bullets continued to shatter the morning air around them, yanking Emmanuelle out of her guilt. Her instinct to avoid danger activated as though to discipline her for being so self-pitying.
She was in the middle of a war, how was she to escape without blood on her hands, whether it was to be figurative or literal?
Her shoes began to slip off her feet much to her dismay from the running. Schofield pulled her around so many corners and dead ends, trying to get out of this maze.
Finally, a clear path blessed their sight leading to the outskirts of Ecoust. The sound of a roaring river graced her ears right before a burning pain assaulted her leg. Something hard and fast grazed her lower calf.
Emmanuelle fell to the hard ground, catching herself with the hand that wasn't holding Schofield's. He had to get away from here...
"Will!" She screamed, hearing the voices of more Germans in the distance. Schofield managed to keep her from completely landing on the ground, supporting her with his arms. "Don't bother with me! Keep going!"
He ignored her pleas as he hastily picked her up into his arms, knowing that it'd only slow him down if she had to struggle on one leg.
Schofield continued to run, getting closer to the river that led out of this haunted mausoleum of a village. Only while being held close by him did Emmy notice that his rifle was missing; left behind most likely at the site where those two Germans lay forgotten in their tomb of a hideaway.
The river was below them and Schofield braced himself to jump. Emmanuelle placed a kiss upon the bare skin of his neck, just in the event that one of them didn't make it. She could feel the blood trickling down from her leg already...
"Emmy, take a deep breath." He ordered her, no space for questioning in his tone. They locked eyes, Schofield gripping tightly onto her as though she were more precious than any commemoration or medal awarded by the British Army.
She inhaled a deep breath, hiding her face to bury into his uniform collar. Her teeth bit onto it to hold back her scream as he jumped off the precipice.
The water burned through her nose and mouth as they both submerged into the river's depths. Despite the increasing pain in her leg, Emmy kicked and swam with all her might to keep her head above the wild rapids.
"Emmy!" Schofield choked out, his hand reaching for hers before grabbing her arm and pulling her close to his chest. "I've got you!"
She coughed out water, her head nearly slumping onto his shoulder as she fought the urge to pass out. Was she losing that much blood so quickly or was she just exhausted?
Schofield gripped her with one arm, tightening his hold around her as he noticed her arms around his neck and shoulders beginning to slacken.
His own energy was decreasing from the day's events, but he kept on swimming, one arm keeping them both above the surface.
After several close calls with protruding rocks and sharp tree branches that cost him the supply pack lost, Schofield heard the unavoidable waterfall.
Emmanuelle stirred from her semi-conscious state against his shoulder at the sound of bubbling danger awaiting them.
They went over the edge, Emmy closing her eyes and allowing her body to fall from Schofield's grasp. Her soldier hit the bottom, disappearing below the surface as she fell into the next level of the river. She sank a few feet below the surface herself before swimming back up, her leg throbbing in protest from the bullet graze.
Not feeling as though she could hold herself above the surface without support for much longer, she looked around for anything sturdy enough to hold her up. She wanted to rest so badly... She couldn't deny that the cool water felt wonderful for her now bare feet.
A blessed tree log floated nearby. She swam to it and grasped onto one of the branches, bracing her upper body onto the trunk.
Emmy looked around desperately as she wiped the water from her eyes, searching for Schofield.
"William!" She yelled his full name, fear gripping her heart with its cruel iron grasp. "Will, you better be alive, damn you!"
He burst through the surface only a few feet away from her. She wanted to cry with relief at the sight of him swimming toward her, gasping for breath as he grabbed onto the log from the other side where she was positioned.
His vibrant blue eyes were dull with exhaustion, his hands barely able to grasp fully onto the log where he wouldn't sink.
Schofield floated on his back, his arm curling around the log as his body still submerged beneath the surface. His head was barely above enough to where his mouth and nose could permit him to breathe.
"Emmy... swim to shore." He was muttering in an incoherent manner. "Get to safety...my love."
"William!" Emmy gasped out, swimming along the gentle current toward her protector. He didn't acknowledge her, his breathing barely stabilizing as he began to sink beneath the surface, his arm going slack around the floating log. He was passing out and about to drown. "Will!"
She screamed for him, swimming to her lance corporal to keep him above water. One of her hands clutched onto his uniform, pulling his head back up so he could gain oxygen back into his lungs.
His skin had gone pale and his eyes remained closed much to Emmanuelle's horror. She had to get them to shore before they both ended up dying from sheer exhaustion and exposure to the elements.
Despite his heavier weight combined with his soaked uniform weighing him down, Emmy slung one of his arms around her slight shoulders and began toward the nearest sight of dry land.
The cherry blossom petals gently snowed upon her head and face from the tree above them...
Blake was still with them... He had shown her a cherry blossom branch he had picked from the chopped down orchard at the farmhouse, presented it to her as a token of chivalric friendship.
She didn't care how illogical it seemed. She was saving the man she loved and wasn't about to let him die for her...
.
.
.
Lance Corporal William Christopher Schofield wasn't sure if he still lived or not. The last thing he remembered was floating in water, he still felt like he was floating somehow, but someone was pulling him along.
"Scho, wake up! You can't go yet!" That voice, one he thought he'd never hear again, rang out to him, desperate and urgent.
"Blake?" He whispered, taken aback by the weakness in his own voice. "What's happening?"
"She needs you, mate. And you swore you'd find my brother!" Thomas Blake stood in front of Schofield, the stab wound gone from his abdomen, his youthful face weary and tired.
Schofield couldn't absorb the fact that he was seeing his late comrade for the first time in what felt like a millennium, but was really less than a whole day ago.
"Am I dying, Blake?" The older Lance Corporal asked.
"That's up to you, Scho." Blake shrugged his shoulders, avoiding eye contact. "If you really love Emmy, you'll open your eyes and start breathing again."
"How dare you..." Schofield became defensive, but stopped himself.
"Remember after the mine shaft almost fell on us, you asked why I chose you to come with me." Blake crossed his arms and stared in a matter-of-fact way at his companion. "You said yourself, God placed Emmy in your path. You never would've found her if I didn't pick you for this mission."
"YES, I LOVE HER!" Schofield shouted at the top of his voice. "I LOVE HER WITH EVERY BEAT OF MY HEART AND EVERY BREATH I'VE Â BREATHED SINCE I FIRST BEHELD HER!"
"Then wake the hell up, Scho!" Blake argued back. "Or you may as well let her die, too!"
Everything disappeared in a white flash of light before Schofield's eyes.
A sweet voice, feminine and crying with loneliness called out for him...
She needed him and he needed her, they would endure and survive together as one.
Tears that weren't his own splashed upon his face, ends of long, loose hair tickling his skin...
Emmanuelle Julia Hunterson was the name of this siren calling him back to life from purgatory, forsaking any unearthly beauty the gates of Heaven may have had to offer him...
.
.
William Schofield's eyes opened and the fire in his soul re-ignited.
He had a promise to keep and a debt to repay...