Double Trouble

Chapter Eight: The Maggots

THE MAGGOTS:

d'Artagnan's Room:

Everything is fuzzy. d'Artagnan is vaguely aware of a faint light dancing, beckoning him to come out of the darkness. Suddenly, it feels as though he's on fire as a burning pain emanates from his back. He fights to breathe but every breath is like a knife stabbing him in the chest.

He tries holding his breath but that only causes the pain to worsen. The sheer intensity of the pain has him wishing for the darkness to return. In the darkness, at least, there was no pain.

But despite the throbbing pain hammering in his chest and back, he fights against the fingers clawing desperately to pull him into a downward spiral. d'Artagnan is drawn to the light that beckons and has to shield his eyes, squinting from the brightness around him.

It hurts.

d'Artagnan moans as he attempts to open his eyes but his eyelids seem heavy and sluggish, draining all his strength just to open them halfway. His eyelids flutter against the invading brightness, yet all he sees is a grey haze, like a thick fog on a rainy day. The young Gascon blinks away the fog, slowly. An agonized groan escapes his lips as consciousness returns, bringing with it a rush of pain and confusion.

d'Artagan gradually grows more aware but as his eyes take in the strange surroundings fear penetrates his consciousness. He has no idea where he is or why he is here. His panicked breathing causes the intense burning in his chest to return, sending flashes of pain shooting through his body all the way down to his toes. He gasps with every haggard breath, leaving his back muscles aching and throbbing. "God, what is wrong with me?" he chokes out.

He closes his eyes against the pain, willing himself to control the fear clawing at his heart. Finally, d'Artagnan chances another look around the room. Nothing looks familiar.

He wonders where he is but, most importantly, where his brother Musketeers are. He is used to waking up and finding any one of his brothers sitting by his bedside; but today, he is alone. The chair beside his bed is empty. He feels dizzy and utterly spent, "how long have I been here?"

d'Artagnan moves to sit up but screams out from the sudden pain jolting through every nerve, muscle, and cell in his body. He falls back against the pillow, his body trembling in agony. Tears soon spill from his eyes, flowing down his cheeks to drip onto the pillow. "Aramis, it hurts," he cries, "where are you?"

The tears he cried leaves d'Artagnan feeling lethargic and weak. Loneliness presses down on his chest like a weight. The boy can't believe his friends would drop him off like baggage, leaving him alone in a strange place. How could they do this to me? he thought.

The young Gascon tries to remember how he could have ended up alone in a place like this but his memory is thick with fog. He replays the most recent missions in his head, hoping something will jog his memory.

He closes his eyes and breathes deeply.

Soon, bits and pieces of images begin trickling into his memory—not painting a whole picture—but rather like pieces of a mosaic waiting to be assembled.

Paris. . . decoy. . . carriage. . . raiders. . . ambush!

"Oh my God, we were attacked on the road." Though alone, he voiced his thoughts, "I remember, Porthos and I went around the left side of the road, there were so many gunmen we were outnumbered. I killed two raiders. I remember Porthos calling my name and then. . . nothing." What happened? Was I shot?

"They wouldn't leave me here alone if I had been shot, would they?" d'Artagnan glanced down at his chest to see the bandage wrapped tightly around his middle. Aramis has to be the one who did surgery on me, he surmised from the skillfully dressed bandage on his wound.