“I donʼt believe you,” Damian said, releasing the safety catch of the pistol. “But I presume we will shortly find ou-”
Damian broke off and let out a shriek, as with his free hand Henry pinched Damian in the groin.
Startled and in pain, Damian stepped backwards, releasing Henryʼs hand. The latter immediately threw himself at Damian and pushed him to the ground, trying to snatch the pistol from his grasp. But Damian wouldnʼt let go.
The two men were wrestling with each other, with Damian lying on his back and Henry crouching over him. Soon, however, it was the other way round, with Henry lying on the ground and Damian straddling him. Momentarily, Henry believed that he simply didnʼt stand a chance. His opponent was trained in the field of fighting, whereas he wasnʼt. He didnʼt want to give up that easily, though, and was waiting for a cunning idea which wasnʼt long in coming.
Although currently Damian had the upper hand, he failed to notice the rather vulnerable position he was in, with his legs spread apart, leaving his manhood unprotected. Henry gathered up all his remaining strength, bent his leg and rammed it right in to Damians groin, which as he knew by now seemed to be the only spot where Damian was capable of feeling pain.
Damian howled like a battered dog and toppled backwards. He still held the pistol in his hand, but Henry had no trouble in taking it away from him. He quickly jumped on his feet, and pointed the gun at Damian.
Both men were panting heavily as they were piercing each other with ferociously twinkling eyes. Then a malicious smile spread across Damianʼs dung-covered face, which looked as if he had just taken an extensive bath in a septic tank.
“You want to shoot me? Why donʼt you do it then? This is your chance, Abbott,” he hissed. “But I suppose that you are far too big a weakling to kill someone.”
Damian laughed like a madman, appearing rather unperturbed by his possible death. Henry guessed that Damian simply knew that he was right with his assumption that Henry was unable to commit cold-blooded murder. Damian was still crouching on the ground, obviously waiting for a moment to strike again while Henry was racking his brain what to do next. He didnʼt want to shoot Damian, he rather wanted to tie him up. But he couldnʼt tie him up as long as he was busy keeping him in check with the gun.
If only Sarah was here, he thought. But he didnʼt even dare to avert his eyes from Damian to find out where she was. He guessed that if she had successfully managed the climb down the wall of the hotel, she would surely need a little while to find him in the darkness. He considered calling her name out loud and by doing so give her a sign, but he wasnʼt sure if it was the right thing to do, as it would not only have attracted Sarahʼs attention but probably also the one of nosy neighbors; and he could very well do without their interference.
Damian began to laugh, as if he had read Henryʼs thoughts and had sensed his indecisiveness and insecurity.
“Your whole plan doesnʼt appear to be really well thought out, Abbott. Were you so sure of yourself that you entirely ruled it out that something could go wrong? And do you really think I will simply let you get away like that? Let me tell you, Abbott, that no matter where you go, I will find you and claim what righteously belongs to me: my wife and my child.”
“The child is mine,” Henry said calmly and with satisfaction, but still concentrating hard on Damianʼs every move, ready to react, just in case something unexpected happened.
Damian looked rather baffled. He wasnʼt grinning anymore.
“It is not,” he whispered, clenching his fists. “Oscar told me you were incapable of begetting a child.”
“I know,” Henry answered, and in an attempt to protect Oscar he added, “I told him so in order to scatter his assumptions and everybody elseʼs that I could be the father. But it was a lie.”
Damianʼs face got as red as a lobster. Even in the only dim light of the moon, Henry could see the amount of hatred that lay in Damianʼs eyes.
Damian was trembling with rage. He slowly got up from his crouching position on the ground until he stood upright again, then he took a step towards Henry, irrespective of the gun that was still aimed at him.
“You bastard!” he yelled at Henry, and Henry was sure that Sarah had heard him and would now be able to find them. Damian wouldnʼt stop shouting and venting his anger and frustration, and Henry began to regret having told him the truth about the child, as he dreaded that Damianʼs outburst would wake the whole neighborhood.
And then, as if on cue, a light went on in the house that they were standing next to. A window was opened, and the shadowy silhouettes of two people, a man and a woman, emerged behind it.
Henry flinched. Distracted by the light and the appearance of the unwanted spectators, he took his eyes off Damian. It was only for a second, not even the split of a second, but it was enough for Damian to react.
With an unexpected forward dive, Damian threw himself at Henry, flung his arms around Henryʼs legs, and pushed him over. The pistol fell out of Henryʼs hand and flew through the air as Henry hit the ground. The next moment Henry felt Damian climb all over him, obviously on his way to retrieve the pistol, but Henry quickly grabbed Damianʼs leg and held him back.
“What is going on out there?” the man at the window shouted angrily. “There happen to be some people who actually would like to sleep at this time of the night!”
“Mind your own business!” Damian shouted over to the two involuntary spectators, pulling a grotesque grimace of hate and bloodlust, as if he would not refrain from giving the two a good talking-to as well, after he would be done with Henry.
Henry heard the man mutter something in return, and although he didnʼt quite understand what it was, he believed to hear the word ʼguards.ʼ
Fueled by the unpleasant prospect of the police getting involved and the fact that a steamship was waiting for him-or rather not waiting for him if he and Sarah didnʼt turn up-Henry found himself becoming more and more under pressure and hence more aggressive. He had spared Damian and had not shot him. Having been so generous, he found that he now had all the right to beat Damian senseless. He knew he had to put an end to this fight now, as he was running out of time.
But Damian was fueled too by the unexpected and terrible truth that he was not the father of the child.
“I will kill you! I will bloody tear you apart, limb by limb!” he shouted into Henryʼs ear. The two men were wrestling again like rabid dogs, rolling all over the street, through puddles, through manure. Eventually, Henry decided that it was wiser to move away from the gun instead of trying to get near it as there was always the risk of Damian getting hold of it before he could, and then using it against him.
“As you wish, Abbott,” Damian spat when he caught wind of Henryʼs plan. “As I said, I donʼt need a gun. I will simply break your neck! I will break you like glass…”
Henry felt Damianʼs hands clutching his shoulders, burying his fingers in his shoulderblades. Henry placed his hands equally on Damianʼs shoulders, and for a moment the two of them were looking like fighting deer with their antlers entwined.
At some stage Henry believed to notice Damian running out of strength, which was something he had not deemed possible considering that Damianʼs body seemed to be made of steel. But then he noticed that he himself gradually began to lack power. Still, they kept on fighting, regaining their strength again and again, not ever giving the other one a chance to win.
I am invincible... Henry thought to himself, citing the words in his mind like a mantra, just to keep himself going, just to prevent himself from giving up. Then he had another idea. He let go of Damian, immediately felt Damianʼs hands move up to his neck, but at the same time he rammed his fingers into Damianʼs eyeballs.
Damian screamed out loud.
Invincible, invincible, invincible... Henry thought as he was watching Damian covering his face and whining like a child.
The gun, I need the gun...!
Frantically, Henry began to search the ground in the darkness.
He couldnʼt find it anywhere. He guessed that they simply had moved too far away from it. Suddenly, he felt Damian jump at him from behind. Henry turned and drew back his arm for a blow, but Damian was faster. With one of his trademark growls and something that sounded like a primal scream he buried his fist in Henryʼs ribs.
Henry gasped for air and tumbled backwards.
Then there was pain, a terrible stinging pain, accompanied by a feeling of nausea and dizziness.
Moaning and defeated, Henry staggered towards a nearby lantern post where he sank down to the ground, clutching his chest, trying not to let the pain overwhelm him.
“Donʼt tell me you are giving up, Abbott!” Damian guffawed, a triumphal grin on his face. “We have only just started!”
Henry knew he shouldnʼt stop fighting, no matter how much pain he was feeling, but he lacked all the strength to rise and strike again. The pain was simply too intense. For a terrible moment, he even believed that he would faint.
In the distance and seemingly far away, he could hear Damianʼs voice say something to him, but he didnʼt understand what it was, he only perceived the gloating laughter that accompanied Damianʼs voice, and from that laughter Henry could gather that Damian already saw himself as the winner of this fight.
Suddenly, however, there was another voice, a much softer one, a sweet one, right next to him, whispering soothing words into his ear, a voice that he immediately recognized as Sarahʼs.
“Henry! Henry! You are alive…!” she called out as she knelt down on the ground next to him and flung her arms around him.
“Sarah…” Henry breathed. He inhaled her sweet scent, felt her tender kisses on his face. And for a moment. He even believed to feel his spirits return.
“Oh, what a lovely little reunion!” Damian purred before adding maliciously. “Well, Sarah, I am afraid, I have to tell you that our little would-be hero is too much of a wimp to shoot me. He will not be able to protect you. He isnʼt even able to protect himself.”
The next moment the man they had seen peering out of the window stepped out of his house and down the staircase leading onto the street, his eyes confusedly darting from Henry to Sarah and over to Damian.
“Are you alright?” he asked, not addressing anyone in particular, just trying to figure out what was going on.
A slightly bored expression on his face, Damian wiped off the dust of his clothes and the remains of dung of his face.
“I am, yes. Thank you for asking,” he answered as if the question was exclusively directed at him, and as if his personal well-being was the only thing that mattered. “I am rather enjoying myself actually. Still, I would appreciate it if you could go and get the guards for me, as I would rather like to have this fellow here arrested. He plotted my assassination.”
“That is not true!” Sarah exclaimed.
“Donʼt mind her. She is his ally,” Damian called over to the man who cast him a worried look.
“Will you be alright on your own, Sir?”
Damian just smirked.
“Rest assured, I will.”
The man nodded and rushed off to the next police station.
A self-satisfied grin on his face, Damian turned his back on Sarah and Henry, who were still crouching on the ground, and calmly went in search of the gun. Almost casually he strode over to the gun that was still lying in some far off corner of the street where Henry had let it drop earlier on during their fight. He was taking his time, appearing certain that his blow in the chest had made Henry entirely defenseless.
Suddenly, Sarah let go of Henry and jumped up in an obvious attempt to run after Damian and stop him, but Henry quickly held her back and indicated her to be quiet. The past minutes that he had been lying on the ground, nestled in Sarahʼs embrace, had given him the chance to gather his remaining strength and prepare for a final attack. He was well aware that if he didnʼt react now, it was over, because that fight with Damian had terribly weakened him and had taken all his alleged supernatural abilities that Sarah believed to see in him. The pain in his chest was intense, and all he could do was to try and ignore it when he laboriously hoisted himself up and staggered after Damian, whose back was still turned on him and who radiated all the self-assurance of a man who was certain that he had won this game; a game that to him was obviously nothing more than an annoying little incident, disturbing his daily routine which consisted of much more important things.
At first, Henry didnʼt know at all what to do, but when he saw Damian bow down to pick the pistol up from the ground, still not sensing any threat from behind, Henry took off his coat and hurried towards Damian. When he had reached him, he threw his coat over him before Damian had a chance to react and thwart Henryʼs plan.
Damian let out a muffled cry of surprise. The pistol fell out of his hand again. Henry wrapped his arms around Damianʼs torso, holding him as tight as he could, despite the pain, despite Damian moving hysterically under the coat like a wriggling fish because he could neither see anything nor move his arms. Still Damian put up determined resistance, and Henry realized that it would not be long until he would have freed himself. Henry was just about to call Sarah for help, but then he saw to his relief that she was already running over to him, furiously brandishing the bundle with her belongings that she intended to take with her to America.
He opened his mouth to tell her that they wouldnʼt achieve anything by hitting Damian with a bundle of clothes, and that she should rather take the gun that had fallen onto the ground, but when he saw that bundle come down on Damianʼs head that was still hidden under the coat, he heard to his surprise the sound of something bursting inside the bundle-the sound of broken porcelain.
“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” Sarah yelled in her fury, releasing all her bottled-up anger that had accumulated inside of her during the past months. Tears were streaming down her face as she hit Damian again and again, although the latter had already collapsed and now hung weakly and motionless in Henryʼs arms.
“Itʼs alright, Sarah, itʼs alright…!” Henry tried to calm her and let Damianʼs body slide to the ground.
Still sobbing Sarah stopped and buried her face in her hands.
Henry quickly grabbed the pistol. Panting heavily he leaned at the lantern post and looked down at the body at his feet. Damian didnʼt stir, but Henry guessed that Damian only pretended as he had done before, and would soon be up on his feet again, battered and most likely with a concussion-but ready to go on.
But Damian just lay motionless on the ground, still buried underneath Henryʼs coat, not uttering a single sound.
Pointing the gun at Damian, Henry knelt down next to him, and upon removing the coat from Damianʼs body, he saw that Damian was really unconscious and that there was blood running from his head.
Sarah let out a whimper.
“Oh my God, Henry, I killed him! I killed him!”
Henry took Damianʼs wrist and sounded him out. Damianʼs pulse was still there.
“No, Sarah, he is not dead,” Henry said soothingly. “I am sure that in a matter of minutes he will be alive and kicking a gain, trust me. What on earth was in that bundle anyway?”
A bashful look on her face Sarah opened the bundle. And when Henry peered inside he couldnʼt help but smile: In it were the broken pieces of what once had been a porcelain chamber pot.
He stroked Sarahʼs cheek and planted a quick kiss on her forehead.
“Come now, help me,” he said softly. “We canʼt just leave him here.”
Henry grabbed Damian under the armpits, Sarah grabbed Damianʼs feet, and together they dragged him over to the fence which surrounded the garden of one of the houses lining the street.
“We need to tie him up,” he said, hectically looking around in an attempt to find something that he could use to bind Damian. He considered taking his scarf but found that it was not elastic and not long enough. Then he had an idea.
“Sarah, give me your stockings. Quick!”
Sarah didnʼt waste a
ny time, lifted her long skirt and began to fanatically fumble with the suspenders.
In the meantime, Henry positioned Damian with his back against the fence. Then, when Sarah handed him her stockings, he tied Damianʼs hands to one of the iron bars.
Suddenly Damian let out a moan.
“What... are you doing... you lunatic?” he whimpered, half-conscious.
Henry decided not to listen to his assaults anymore. He wasnʼt in the mood to fight, neither physically nor verbally. All he wanted was to take Sarah and get away from here before the guards arrived. He took a last look at Damian who, battered as he now was, bore a rather pathetic sight. Henry found that with his bleeding head and his swollen face, Damian looked as if he had been surprised by a swarm of belligerent bees.
“I will have freed myself within a matter of seconds...” Damian grunted weakly. “I will follow you, and I will find you and that wanton little hussy…”
Henry & Sarah Page 40
