“Miss me?” She asked.
XI
Rome, Italy
April-June, 38 A.D.
I looked away from my dark clad rescuer to figure out exactly what was happening. I saw three figures dressed similarly as Helena, looking more like ninjas than soldiers, move towards a still unconscious Santino. I saw the largest of the three remove the nails from Santino’s wrists, cut his bonds, and catch him as he fell onto him. The smallest figure pulled off a large bag, and tended to his wounds. I also noticed a number of Roman Praetorians moving through the room as well. I looked back at Helena, trying to form words, but my throat was too dry to utter a single one.
She looked at me expectantly. “Well? Nothing to say?”
A few seconds passed while I let my throat moisten.
“What took you so long?” I croaked.
She smiled while pulling a knife from a sheath around her calf, and cut my ropes. Unable to bare my own weight, I collapsed into her arms, the pain threatening to knock me out again. She staggered only slightly under my weight, but refused to drop me. Gently, she lowered me to a sitting position and offered me the tube from her CamelBak. I accepted it and drank eagerly as she placed a large blanket over my shoulders. Choking on my last gulp, I spit water all over her, but immediately felt my head start to clear.
Frowning at her wet pants, she looked back at me. “So this is the thanks I get?”
“Sorry,” I sputtered. “Couldn’t help it.” I wiped my mouth on her sleeve, and she gave me another look. “I hate to sound ungracious here, but what’s the plan?”
In answer, another figure moved over to where we sat, and pulled off his mask, revealing Vincent’s weathered face.
“The plan is to get you two out of here,” he said. “Unfortunately, getting in was the easy part, because the city is under siege now. Caligula has ordered an artillery strike. We’ll have to dodge incoming fire as well angry rebels. Can you walk? Can you fight?”
I shook my head. “I can walk, but not without help. My head feels like it’s about to explode, and I can’t see very well. If I look worse than I feel, I can only imagine how hard you guys must be working to keep your lunch down.”
Helena angled her head to inspect my face. “It’s not… that bad,” she said, clearly lying.
“Santino is unconscious,” Vincent continued, “and needs to be carried. We have fifty Praetorians with us, so that shouldn’t be a problem, but we could still use all the help we can get.”
I nodded. “Just give me a gun.”
Helena placed a familiar object in my hand. “Here’s Penelope.”
I tried to look at her. “Umm… who?”
She shrugged. “You talk in your sleep.”
I felt my cheeks get warm. It was only a little embarrassing that she knew I gave my rifle a name, and only slightly more that she knew I uttered it in my sleep.
“Don’t worry,” she whispered. “I’m not jealous.”
I gave her a quick smile, at least what I thought might have been a smile had I been able to feel my face.
Wang came rushing over with an outreached hand. “Here, Hunter, take these.” He held what I assumed were pain killers.
I swallowed them quickly with some more water. “Thanks, doc.”
“Let’s go,” Helena said, pulling me to my feet with a strength I knew most women couldn’t equal. She cradled me in a similar fashion to the way I helped her the very first day we arrived in ancient Rome, and dragged me out of the room.
“Man, this is kinda nice,” I commented. “You’re not allowed to get hurt anymore. Only me.”
“Deal, but lay off the desserts next time.”
“Har har. Don’t quit your day job.”
I couldn’t even remember the last time I had a non-MRE style dessert. Her struggles keeping me upright had nothing to do with my weight, but because I was offering far less help than she had been when I carried her months ago. I could barely limp, and it didn’t take long before I realized she was mostly dragging me, as opposed to just supporting me. Just like the days carrying my drunk friends home back in college, their dead, fish-like state made them impossible to carry easily. I had to give her credit though because she was keeping up with the group well enough.
Vincent hung back with Helena and me, but Wang and Bordeaux were upfront with the vanguard of Praetorians breaking us out. I saw that we were rushing through the streets of an unfamiliar portion of Rome. Although, again, it probably only looked unfamiliar because I couldn’t see shit. A part of me was thankful for that, but the other part wished I could see what was happening. It looked like an interesting fight.
“What’s going on?” I asked Helena, blindly trying to get my bearings.
Before answering, I saw her tilt her head to look at the sky. Following her look, I tracked a dozen blurry and glowing red ball flying through the air.
“You’re missing quite the show,” she answered. “People are panicking and running through the streets. The city is in chaos. We’re meeting only scarce resistance so far, easy kills for Wang and Bordeaux. Oh, Caligula’s artillery is also lobbing balls of fire over the walls. I had no idea they could do that.”
“You’d be surprised. They’re pretty crafty,” I told her as I stumbled on a rock, nearly falling to the ground.
I felt my head swim again.
“Jesus, you’re a klutz, Hunter. You should have stuck to being a teacher,” she said, trying to keep my spirits up as I found myself fighting harder and harder to stay conscious. After another dozen steps or so, I felt my eyes close and I started losing control over my legs. After another few steps, they gave out altogether, and I felt my hold on reality slip away.
The last thing I remembered before blacking out completely was Helena screaming my name.
***
I opened my eyes.
Flicking them left and right, the first thing I noticed was that I could in fact see. After a few minutes of blinking, my surroundings began to focus, but what continued to worry me was that I couldn’t see much at all, just a bright white light.
Was I dead?
The only thing I remembered since being hung up in Claudius’ torture chamber was a dream about two strikingly beautiful women, one dressed in a white, loose garment, the other in a black, tight fitting body suit. The two women had battled one another in vicious hand to hand combat for what seemed like days, neither one of them ever gaining the upper hand. They didn’t fight in the comic, cliche cat fighting, and bitch slapping style normally associated with two women duking it out, but with intense punches, kicks, eye gouges, hair ripping, but with absolutely no fondling.
This was my dream, damn it! At least some clothing should have come off.
But I wasn’t sure a lack of clothing would have saved me from the end because when both women finally noticed me, their duel ended and they shifted their attention towards me. Literal fire burning in their eyes, one set blue and the other green, both women turned to rush me, fists at the ready.
Hallucinations were a bitch.
