by Taylor Hobbs
Until it wasn’t easy anymore. Lino lurched again and turned around to run back to the wagons, only to slip and fall face-first into the mud. Bieito hauled him up to his feet, but the damage was done. A soldier had spotted them and was making his way over.
Bieito froze with one hand on Lino’s collar, holding him up. The soldier barked a question at them, and Bieito answered, trying to look confident. Remy couldn’t hear what was being said, but the soldier walked closer to examine the brothers. Bieito shook his head, then shook Lino by his collar. For a moment, Remy thought the soldier believed the performance. He nodded once, but then abruptly pulled out his weapon.
Time stood still as three pairs of eyes fixated on the end of the rifle. Bieito, Lino, and Remy all froze at the sight of the drawn weapon. Keeping it pointed at the prisoners, the soldier took a deep breath and prepared to sound the alarm.
Before he could get a shout out to alert the rest of the company, Bieito reached out, grabbed the barrel, and slammed the butt of the rifle straight backward into the soldier’s nose. The soldier collapsed into the mud.
Through the waterfall of rain, Remy watched Bieito and Lino return to their original course. Their violent incident, however, had already been spotted. Someone was running over to help the fallen soldier and cried out.
At that sound, Bieito broke into a run, dragging his brother behind him. Remy could only stay hidden in horror while the brothers sprinted in the direction opposite from where she lay waiting, as their way was blocked by more soldiers joining the chase. Everywhere the brothers turned, they were almost surrounded. Their only advantage was the fact that nobody could see very well in the weather, much less shoot their weapon accurately in such a populated area. If anyone had the opportunity for a clear shot, both brothers would have been dead in a blink.
The soldiers weren’t going to risk a friendly-fire incident though, and their numbers were great enough to easily surround two men on foot. Lino, at least, seemed to wake up from his fog enough to grasp the seriousness of their problem, and had started moving better without having to lean on Bieito for support. Remy imagined Lino’s horror at realizing he wasn’t experiencing a fever dream, but was, in fact, being chased by the enemy through the mud in real life. No matter what, real or imagined, it was still a nightmare.
Bieito and Lino were almost back at the wagons, dodging around camp supplies as they ran. The brothers ducked behind a docile cart-horse, still attached to her wagon and waiting patiently in the rain for her dinner. She was a dappled brown color and blended into the muddy scenery. A plain little thing among all the magnificent war horses.
Still, she was the brothers’ only option. What she lacked in speed and agility, Remy hoped she made up for in sturdiness. A few cut reins and a drop of the harness later, Bieito and Lino sat astride the confused horse.
Don’t come back for me, Remy begged. Both of you, run. I’ll be fine.
But Bieito didn’t hear her mental pleas. The area that separated them was now swarming with shouting soldiers, an impossible obstacle course to risk. Bieito sat tall in front, with Lino’s arms locked around his waist. We can’t take the horse with three of us. Please, Bieito, take Lino and go!
But if Bieito had really left with Lino and ditched Remy, then he wouldn’t be the man she fell in love with. His sense of pride and duty obligated him to return on his promise, and he was not going to leave his lady behind. Squinting against the downpour, he turned his head side to side, calculating the best path back to where he knew Remy stood waiting.
With a kick of his left foot, Bieito spun the horse around, and another fierce kick with both heels got her moving. With a surprisingly agile leap, the horse made a beeline through the mess of soldiers, who scrambled to get out of her way. The smarter soldiers were already running over to their own mounts, ready for the chase. Bieito only had a few minutes head start on everyone before they could get organized enough to pursue.
Remy feverishly thanked the rain for giving them a few precious moments to disappear and hide their tracks, but it wouldn’t buy them enough time to escape completely. Her eyes left the advancing horse for a few seconds, and she peered down at the other prisoners, who still remained in the wagons. They were yelling and encouraging Lino, who kept twisting around on the horse to look back at them.
He must feel so guilty leaving them all behind. Remy knew it would be impossible to make Lino understand why they could only save him and not the others and hoped that the guilt wouldn’t eat at him every day. Especially when he finds out the fate of everyone else later. To be the sole survivor of a coup that resulted in everyone being executed and buried in an unmarked grave…Lino would never be the same again after this ordeal.
Remy even struggled with her own guilt, as she looked at the faces of those they had abandoned to die. They hadn’t even attempted to rescue them, or at least cut their ropes and given them a chance on their own. It would have changed too much. Remy doubted she would have even been allowed to make such a drastic change to the timeline.
It was one thing to justify this decision, but it was quite another to stare at the hopeful faces of those who watched Lino flee and know that they were sentenced to die shortly. Their fate has already been decided. It was decided over a hundred years ago, Remy reminded herself. These men went down in history. They are a part of Galician history. This has to happen. But now that Lino was free, would the Twelve Martyrs of Carral be the Eleven Martyrs of Carral in the history books? Was a difference of one person just as bad as letting none of them become martyrs? Would they achieve the same notoriety as the original dozen?
Remy decided it really didn’t matter at the moment. The only thing that mattered was getting Lino and Bieito out of the mess of soldiers in one piece. Her heart nearly stopped as she watched the carthorse squeal and slip in the mud as Bieito yanked the reins, circling for a way out. The horse regained her footing, and Bieito kicked her forward. The soldiers standing in front dove out of the way but were up on their feet a second later as the horse barreled past.
They’re almost to the tree line. Remy started to breathe again. They were nowhere near clear, but at least they were no longer surrounded. Then she saw Lino’s head slump over Bieito’s shoulder, and his arms start to loosen their hold. Bieito must have felt his brother barely hanging on, because he turned around to grab Lino’s waist before he slipped off their galloping mount.
Halfway turned in his seat, one hand on the reins and the other on his brother, who by this point was almost lying on the horse, Bieito was forced to slow their mount down.
It was just enough time for one of the soldiers to ready his weapon. Remy didn’t see him aim, but she heard the crack of the gunshot. Bieito ducked at the sound but kept moving forward.
He’s okay. It didn’t hit him. Remy’s attention turned from the riders to where the soldiers were regrouping. Through the rain, she watched as another took aim. They’re all going to start firing. Now that Lino and Bieito were no longer surrounded, the Spanish soldiers risked nothing by blindly shooting in their general direction.
She wanted to cry out, to tell Bieito to go faster, to bring some attention to herself as a distraction, but the words died in her chest. They were almost to her. When she finally managed to take a deep breath and scream Bieito’s name, her words were drowned out by another crack of gunfire. It was a blind shot through the downpour, a Hail Mary fire.
Remy saw Bieito’s back straighten in shock and pain, before collapsing over the horse’s neck. “No!” she screamed. The horse kept galloping, spurred on by the bullets that whizzed past her. Remy ran to try and intercept the mare, and something shot by her head uncomfortably close. Fuck! She doubled over to make herself a smaller target and continued to sprint after Bieito. The soldiers hadn’t seen her yet, thankfully, or if they had, then she was too far away to hear them sound the alarm about her presence.
The brothers were still on the horse. He can’t be dead. If he was dead, they both would have fallen. At this
point she wondered if Lino had been hit as well, or if he had just passed out. Then she saw a body fall from the horse. Was it Lino or Bieito? The horse kept galloping onward with only one rider now, moving significantly faster. The sole rider lay across her back, staying on by some miracle, and soon disappeared out of sight.
Remy ran to where the body lay in the mud, facedown. There was no time for hesitation, especially since they were so exposed. Unwilling to be careful in her urgent need to know who it was, she flipped him over roughly. A wheezing groan escaped him. Remy’s quick fingers wiped the mud off his face, and she let out a sob.
Bieito. His eyes found hers before they rolled up in agony. Warm blood mixed with the grime and rain, but it was impossible to see where it was flowing from. Moving him would only cause more damage, and he was too heavy for Remy to drag anyway. She could only cradle his head, helpless, as the rain poured down and the mud slowly drowned them.
The calls of the soldiers grew louder as they traveled closer, cursing and stumbling on the slick earth. They were still looking for the horse, and for a wild moment Remy thought that maybe they might pass by them unnoticed. Both she and Bieito were so covered in filth that they might as well have been part of the forest. It might have worked, had she been able to quiet the wailing that had risen up in her chest. The moans that filled her ears couldn’t be coming from her own body, could they? It was a sound so full of despair and hopelessness that it frightened her, but she had no control over it.
How had it all failed so spectacularly? Was this her punishment for changing history? The cost of her wish that Lino would live, but Bieito would die. That she would lose everything. There would be Thirteen Martyrs of Carral instead of twelve now. The soldiers would come and take her and Bieito away. Bieito would die, not able to even make it to the trial, succumbing to his gunshot wound while Remy wasted away, struck down by grief.
As she clutched him to her, Remy had a wild thought, one that had only occurred to her because they had nothing else to lose. It was risky, and there was a chance that she could be sent back by herself, leaving Bieito to die in the mud on his own, but it was a chance she had to take.
The soldiers closed in on them, and Remy closed her eyes. I wish both of us were home in my time. No cost was too great at this point. She made her wish freely and with her whole heart, feeling the want and desire overwhelm her fear and apprehension. It consumed her, pushing out any doubts that she was making the wrong choice.
Her fingers dug into Bieito’s warm skin, leaving marks while she waited to pull him with her into her own time. “Everything will be okay,” she whispered to him. “I’ve got you. I won’t let you die.” Modern medicine could save him.
One of the soldiers had spotted them, and he let out a shout to alert the others. He charged toward the couple on the ground. Remy and Bieito still lay there, half-sunk and trapped. Raindrops pounded Remy’s head, cool rivulets streaming down to cover her body as she stared boldly back at her enemy. The soldier came closer, close enough for Remy to see the whites of his eyes as he screamed at them and leveled his weapon.
It was the last thing Remy saw before her vision tunneled and she blacked out, slumping protectively over Bieito’s unnervingly still body. Stay with me.
Chapter Fourteen
Remy woke up trembling. She whipped her head around, trying to take in all of her surroundings at once. Her head and heart pounded in the same rhythm while she searched for danger. The familiar buildings of her village encircled her. I’m back, Remy realized in shock. It actually worked.
She still didn’t trust it, though. Could she have brought back some of the army with her? Were they here, waiting and lurking around the corners for her to make a move? She froze and listened. There was no time for a slip up. Bieito was in serious trouble, and she needed to get him to a hospital as quickly as possible. With a gasp of horror, Remy groped for a body that wasn’t there.
“Fuck!” The words echoed through the empty streets, promising Remy that she was as alone and isolated as she feared. The price of pushing everyone in her life away. “Help! Help, somebody, help me!” Even as her desperate cries echoed in her ears, Remy knew that there was nobody to hear her calls.
So far, the village had given her everything she desired. She didn’t believe she could be kneeling in the middle of it, experiencing so much pain. To have everything and nothing, all at once. Her art, her village, and her normal life had all been returned to her, but in a perverse way. Her desires had been twisted and manipulated so much along the journey that she had no idea how she ended up back here, in a foreign country, holding onto only the memories of a dying man from another time.
Just as she was losing faith and cursing the village for bringing her only doom and destruction, she heard her name being called.
“Remy? Is that you?” A gentle, British accent tempered by disbelief called back to her.
“Maggie?”
Her friend appeared from around the bakery, dusting off her hands on the front of her well-worn jeans. Flyaway gray hair was tamed into submission by a handkerchief, and a pair of sturdy work boots were on her feet. “My dear, where on earth have you been?” Then she saw that Remy was covered in filth and blood.
Before Remy could ask how or why Maggie was at her village, her guardian angel whipped out her phone and dialed, speaking in rapid Spanish. Huh, I can’t understand it anymore, Remy realized, just as she collapsed into Maggie’s arms.
****
Beeping monitors. Bright lights. Sweat-soaked clothes. Goosebumps on her skin.
“Bieito!” Remy called, and she sat bolt upright. To her right, the person who had been holding her hand nearly fell off the ambulance bench.
“Breathe, child,” Maggie instructed, once she had regained her composure. “You’re in good hands.”
Instead of sagging back against the pillows in relief, Remy was bombarded with memories from her last few moments with Bieito. “He might still be alive! Where is he?” She struggled to sit up, ignoring the spots that appeared in front of her eyes.
“Who?” Maggie asked. “Were you with Bieito? Did something happen? I was so afraid you had been injured, with all that blood…What happened?”
“No one else is here? You’re sure he didn’t come through?” Maggie shook her head, and Remy’s eyes filled with tears. If he hadn’t come through to her time, then his gunshot wound was certainly fatal. The last-ditch effort to save him didn’t work. It was like losing him all over again. He’d been dead over a century, but Remy grieved for him now.
An EMT opened the back door of the ambulance, surprising Remy enough to keep from completely melting down. Straight ahead, the familiar sight of her village greeted her. The EMT spoke in Spanish to Maggie, and Remy tuned them out. She stared at the buildings, hating them, yet loving them at the same time. Home. How could she be here without thinking of Bieito? Every piece of it held a reminder of him now.
Maggie’s voice interrupted her meditation. “They need to check some more vitals, Remy, but they don’t need to bring you to the hospital. The blood on you was not your own, and is a story for another time, I think. They said you are very dehydrated and sleep deprived, but otherwise you are healthy. You just fainted. I know I overreacted by calling them, but seeing you in such a state…my heart could not handle it. We have all been incredibly worried.”
Remy swallowed the lump in her throat, trying to figure out some way to tell Maggie her unbelievable tale. “First, can I ask—how long have I been gone?”
Maggie’s eyebrows shot up. “Over a month. I was the last person to see you before you disappeared.” Maggie sniffed. “Quite a terrible position you put me in. Then there was no sign of you for weeks. I agonized over whether or not to list you as a missing person…I told myself you would be back. We had too many plans for the village, and I told Sebastian there was no way you would abandon it. He’s been sick with worry as well. I decided to leave Madrid and come to Ortigueira and get to work on it while waiting for y
ou to get back and explain to me just what in heaven’s name you have been doing!”
Remy winced at the obvious anger in Maggie’s tone. She felt terrible that she put her friend through such an ordeal. There must be some way to explain it to her without sounding delusional, and she tried to gather her thoughts. Where do I even start? Start with the basics. At the beginning. “Maggie, do you remember telling me that you felt something odd about the village when I bought it?”
Maggie still looked frustrated with Remy but nodded. “It is a property with a personality. One of the stranger pieces of realty I’ve sold over the years.” She moved out of the way as an EMT checked Remy’s pulse. He moved with quick efficiency and seemed uninterested in the developing conversation. “I wasn’t prepared to sell a property like this. I think it fell into the right hands—your hands—but I would be lying if I said I hadn’t had my doubts about whether it was in your best interest or the village’s. Sometimes I wonder if I should have just shown you an apartment in downtown Madrid instead…”
“Oh, Maggie, sometimes I wish that too. It’s been more complicated than I ever imagined.”
“With the renovation?”
Remy hesitated.
“With your mental health?” Maggie prodded. She was being remarkably patient with Remy’s roundabout answer, but the question cut to the core of the issue. Remy had vanished without a trace and was currently lying on a stretcher recovering from shock and exhaustion.