04-04-2019, 04:10 PM
Helena folded up the paper and got up, Wade silently nodding and not understanding why he knew that was exactly what he'd made up his mind to do after she left. She knocked to let the guard know she was ready to leave. The other came into the room on his side.
"Oh, and, uh, Happy Father's Day... Daddy." Helena said before leaving.
She walked down to Visitor Reception and got the small cardboard box containing her pins and studs back. Propappou and Troy walked with her, each holding a hand, onto the ferry to leave the island and go home.
"Hey, Helena, I think, tonight, we go somewhere nice for dinner, eh," he said to her in Greek as they found seats in the back.
She looked up at the man she wished were her father, then back at the prison as the ferry pulled away from the docks. Troy turned on his phone, saw he'd missed six texts from Julie asking how it was going, and turned to text back.
"Can we just go home and have cocoa instead, Propappou?" Helen asked, also in Greek, watching the prison get smaller and hearing the sound of sirens coming from inside the walls growing distant.
She reached into her pocket and retrieved the note and the gift box.
"Sure, sure. Hey, what's that?" He asked.
Helen tore up the note and tossed the pieces and the box over the side, into the inlet.
"Something that'll never happen again," she responded.
* * *
"She's lost a lot of blood," one of the paramedics said as Contessa Helena de San Finzione's Eurocopter EC 115 helicopter descended toward the roof of the Byroni Medina Memorial Emergency Medical Center. "If your man hadn't been there, Generalissimo..."
Generalissimo Ramirez set down her purse; which, in all the chaos, had ended up in his care. He removed his jacket, now soaked with the blood she'd lost as he helped lift her onto the stretcher and into the helicopter, unbuttoning his shirt.
"Does she need more? I am O Negative."
Maisson, the Ultimado field medic who was first on the scene and rode in the helicopter with them, shook his head no and guided him down into one of the seats.
"They'll have that when we land, Mon Général. It's all ready for her."
The medic gestured for him to strap in for landing before doing the same.
Ramirez looked over her, over the EMTs doing their jobs. He should have done his job earlier, but the unconscious woman on the floor in front of him had made a mistake.
He knew what she could do, had heard tales about her back when he could have a drink with "the men" instead of "the officers." Grown men living in the 21st century spreading gossip about La Contessa the same way their ancestors in centuries past gathered to whisper tales of the demonic creatures that their rulers truly were beneath their human guise. By the time he'd met her, he'd heard too many of them to believe any. Might've told a few himself.
Now, he knew which ones to believe: the ones about her strange ability to command the wills of men. He'd seen it happen, experienced it himself. And when it happened again a few minutes before, he knew it was an accident. She was telling the assassin to stop, but everyone in the room except him did it, including the Generalissimo. If she hadn't told everyone they could move again before losing consciousness, he and the tourists would probably still be immobile in the ballroom, puzzling everyone who'd arrived after to see them all frozen in place still.
The cause was irrelevant: he couldn't do anything to help her then, and he couldn't do anything for her now. He watched the EMTs work, trying to find something they might have missed; some way to be helpful.
"Why is nothing being done about the cut on her neck," he asked Maisson. "He was cutting her throat, and then you and Velasquez fired..."
Maisson raised his right hand in reassurance as he fished for something in his left pocket.
"The neck wound was only superficial, Mon Général. The blade glanced off this and broke." Maisson held up the gold chain, one link now broken, that held the emerald pendant La Contessa had been wearing. "He missed her jugular."
Ramirez exhaled sharply. It was one good thing today. Maisson handed him the pendant and Ramirez reached for La Contessa's purse, placing it inside. But it still didn't feel like he was contributing.
"Shouldn't they be giving her morphine? What if she regains consciousness? The pain would be..."
The Ultimado figured out what was going on with Le Général and once the helicopter touched down, unbuckled himself and stood to block the Generalissimo's view.
"Oh, and, uh, Happy Father's Day... Daddy." Helena said before leaving.
She walked down to Visitor Reception and got the small cardboard box containing her pins and studs back. Propappou and Troy walked with her, each holding a hand, onto the ferry to leave the island and go home.
"Hey, Helena, I think, tonight, we go somewhere nice for dinner, eh," he said to her in Greek as they found seats in the back.
She looked up at the man she wished were her father, then back at the prison as the ferry pulled away from the docks. Troy turned on his phone, saw he'd missed six texts from Julie asking how it was going, and turned to text back.
"Can we just go home and have cocoa instead, Propappou?" Helen asked, also in Greek, watching the prison get smaller and hearing the sound of sirens coming from inside the walls growing distant.
She reached into her pocket and retrieved the note and the gift box.
"Sure, sure. Hey, what's that?" He asked.
Helen tore up the note and tossed the pieces and the box over the side, into the inlet.
"Something that'll never happen again," she responded.
* * *
"She's lost a lot of blood," one of the paramedics said as Contessa Helena de San Finzione's Eurocopter EC 115 helicopter descended toward the roof of the Byroni Medina Memorial Emergency Medical Center. "If your man hadn't been there, Generalissimo..."
Generalissimo Ramirez set down her purse; which, in all the chaos, had ended up in his care. He removed his jacket, now soaked with the blood she'd lost as he helped lift her onto the stretcher and into the helicopter, unbuttoning his shirt.
"Does she need more? I am O Negative."
Maisson, the Ultimado field medic who was first on the scene and rode in the helicopter with them, shook his head no and guided him down into one of the seats.
"They'll have that when we land, Mon Général. It's all ready for her."
The medic gestured for him to strap in for landing before doing the same.
Ramirez looked over her, over the EMTs doing their jobs. He should have done his job earlier, but the unconscious woman on the floor in front of him had made a mistake.
He knew what she could do, had heard tales about her back when he could have a drink with "the men" instead of "the officers." Grown men living in the 21st century spreading gossip about La Contessa the same way their ancestors in centuries past gathered to whisper tales of the demonic creatures that their rulers truly were beneath their human guise. By the time he'd met her, he'd heard too many of them to believe any. Might've told a few himself.
Now, he knew which ones to believe: the ones about her strange ability to command the wills of men. He'd seen it happen, experienced it himself. And when it happened again a few minutes before, he knew it was an accident. She was telling the assassin to stop, but everyone in the room except him did it, including the Generalissimo. If she hadn't told everyone they could move again before losing consciousness, he and the tourists would probably still be immobile in the ballroom, puzzling everyone who'd arrived after to see them all frozen in place still.
The cause was irrelevant: he couldn't do anything to help her then, and he couldn't do anything for her now. He watched the EMTs work, trying to find something they might have missed; some way to be helpful.
"Why is nothing being done about the cut on her neck," he asked Maisson. "He was cutting her throat, and then you and Velasquez fired..."
Maisson raised his right hand in reassurance as he fished for something in his left pocket.
"The neck wound was only superficial, Mon Général. The blade glanced off this and broke." Maisson held up the gold chain, one link now broken, that held the emerald pendant La Contessa had been wearing. "He missed her jugular."
Ramirez exhaled sharply. It was one good thing today. Maisson handed him the pendant and Ramirez reached for La Contessa's purse, placing it inside. But it still didn't feel like he was contributing.
"Shouldn't they be giving her morphine? What if she regains consciousness? The pain would be..."
The Ultimado figured out what was going on with Le Général and once the helicopter touched down, unbuckled himself and stood to block the Generalissimo's view.
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