The Dark Ages: Convergence (Prequel to the P.O.E. Chronicles)

Chapter 9 Paris

The smell hits me before anything else does, and I quickly cover my nose with my sleeves. I can see Anastasia does the same thing out of the corner of my eyes, and our guide, Beatrice, snickered.

"Don't be such a baby," she coos at us. I grunt in respond; she makes me miss Evan and the nameless guy with the gun. At least they are quiet and civilised. This woman has been the bane of my existence since the moment we met. She takes joy in teasing me and making me uncomfortable, though she's nice to Anastasia.

Beatrice precedes to rattle off something in French, completely unaware of the fact that I can understand every single word she says. She's basically saying that she'd rather be anywhere else than here babysitting two brats with connections. But honestly, she can call me all the names under the moon if she can get us to Paris safely.

They had made it through the rest of the tunnel without being attacked by the rats, although there were times I swore that they were watching us. Evan had immediately disappeared, probably to report the rat situation. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that if the problem persists, they'll be out of business. We got shuffled around from one place to another until they got Beatrice to take us to Paris. At least they weren't heartless; I would put up with her any day then attempt to cross the countryside by myself.

Continental Europe is different.

The countryside is full of booby traps. I am not sure if they are left for prey or just to trap random human. Some aren't even man by anyone. Beatrice, who at her best moments, would explain about the types there are. A lot of it are a result of securities being set up during the days after the explosion to stop the onslaught of refugees fleeing from one town to another, particularly those who are infected. But there are many recent ones as well, set up by communities who wants nothing to do with outsiders.

Beatrice takes us on a route that's pretty trap-free, and I wonder just how they come to know of it. We are often by the train tracks, which isn't completely safe because it's a known track and attract a lot of opportunity seekers. They've certainly seen a few lurkers, but no one bothered them. It might be due to the fact that Beatrice is carrying a gun.

"Wouldn't they try to steal it off you?" I'd have asked one day. Beatrice would laugh at me and stroke the gun like it's her baby.

"They can try, but they won't get far." Beatrice's tone gave me the creeps and I didn't press the question. And she was right. Not one bothered her and we had no trouble. Looking back at our entire journey, I can't help but think that it had all seemed too easy. I expected more trouble, delay and unfriendliness. We had gotten the last in abundance, but nothing else.

"This is Paris?" I can't help but frown at the scene in front of me. The streets are pretty, made of stones and cobbles. But the stench, the trickle of foot traffic around and the guarded way people look at each other gives me a sense that there's something more lurking under the surface. But there's also no denying that Paris is doing better than London, by a long shot.

"Where do you need to go?" Beatrice asks. While I don't think she'd harm us, telling her where we are going to go seems like a bad idea. But we do need to be pointed in the right direction.

"Montmartre," I answer. "We are meeting our relatives."

Beatrice looks unconvinced, but she doesn't press us for more details and start leading us through the meandering streets. I look around, curious about Paris and all that I have heard about it growing up. Mama loves this city with a passion, and the fact that I am here without them makes my heart ache. My stupidity has stolen their chances of returning home. The only comfort I can seek is that they didn't have to suffer through the uncertainty of the journey and the horrific tunnel crossing.