Blood

Training (18)

Well sorry that this took a while to publish, all this week I have been doing Macbeth rehearsals and performances so I have only just found time to go on here!

Not the most interesting chapter but it is sort of a filler at the mo'! It's getting close to more action though and I hope you are enjoying this!

Thanks! Enjoy!

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We followed Gilbert and Pascal through the building till we came to a large room. It was filled with all kinds of things; French, German and British uniforms, loads of radios, rifles and other weapons and all kinds of other things, half of which I had no idea what were. There were a few tables, some chairs and a gasoline lamp which appeared to be the only light source in the room.

Justine looked around with just as much curiosity, her eyes misty with thought.

“Please sit,” the same one who had spoken before asked.

We both pulled out a chair and sat, glancing around us.

“I am Pascal and this is Gilbert.” The man named Pascal began, “We will be your trainers for a few months and we will teach you all the skills that are required of you as a member of the French Resistance.”

Justine and I nodded solemnly and he continued.

“Firstly, we will show you the building, the area in which it is in and the current occupied areas in France.”

He stood and strode out of the room, followed by Gilbert, Justine and I walking quickly behind.

We soon found out the building was five stories high; the basement was used as a storeroom and meeting room, the ground floor had the kitchen and dining room in it and a few empty rooms, the first and second floor were filled with bedrooms and bathrooms and the attic served as an indoor target practise for shooting. The place had once been a busy hotel but after World War 2 broke out, the town was evacuated and barely days later bombed by the Germans. The hotel was one of the only buildings left standing, having avoided destruction.

For the first time in what seemed like months, we went outside. Immediately I was met by the bitter cold late autumn was bringing on and I shivered as the sight before me was both chilling and depressing. Just like the town I had woken up in, the whole place was filled with destruction. Homes were lying in piles of debris, their contents strewn across the cracked road and shops lay in similar situations, their windows shattered to scatter across the cold ground like snow. There was a strong burnt smell in the air, entwined with gasoline and dirt and when I breathed in through my mouth, I could taste it in my mouth.

My heart felt heavy in my chest as I looked upon the scene. I could feel Monique’s sadness within me, memories of her destroyed home flickering in my vision.

“This is Savise,” Pascal said, his voice seeming oddly loud in the silence.

I turned to face him and my heart fell even more when I saw the sadness reflecting in his eyes.

I glanced at his brother, Gilbert, but I saw nothing in his eyes. He just stared out emotionlessly, turning to face me when he felt my gaze. We stared into each other’s eyes and I saw an emotion flash in his before disappearing all together.

Pascal led us around the town, saying nothing before we returned to the hotel. I stared up at the building, marvelling at how tall it looked standing above all this misery. The words ‘Le Chateau’ were painted in faded blue and green across the dark grey granite, seeming bright here.