Dishonored Read Online Free Page A

witnessed
     in Meerut, terrified for the peril of his own camp. He had been shocked and ashamed at the disorganized and futile response
     of the senior officers at Meerut. It seemed the command, despite the repeated warnings, were totally unprepared for what had
     just happened; they had no idea what to do.
    As each mile passed on the road to Moraphur, the colonel felt the raging ache of despair as images of the carnage flashed
     in and out of his mind. The hot, dusty landscape bore witness to the chaos, littered every now and then with the charred remains
     of a burnt-out carriage or the carcass of a slaughtered donkey, already foul-smelling and fly-infested in the stifling heat.
    Finally they reached Moraphur. Passing through a silent, closed town, as the boundary of the camp neared, the party slowed
     to a walk and continued on in grim, shocked silence. Moraphur had not escaped.
    The colonel dismounted; several of the men did the same. He gripped the reins of his horse and swallowed down the bile that
     rose in his throat. As he bent to pick up a small bloodstained lady’s slipper, he saw the foot, severed at the ankle, was
     still in it. Behind him the wretched noise of one of the soldiers vomiting echoed in the silence and he closed his eyes.
    “Dear God,” he murmured. “Oh dear God…” Walking on, he kept his eyes ahead and passed the carnage all around him in a
     daze. He followed the main road of the camp up to the grounds of his own bungalow and for a moment his body froze. The bungalow
     stood, almost untouched it appeared. He dropped the reins of the horse and ran ahead. “Bearer!” he shouted. “Alicia! Alicia!”
     But as he ran, he caught his foot on something and stumbled, nearly losing his balance. He glanced down at the ground, back
     at his path and it was then that he saw it. He dropped to his knees and buried his face in his hands. He made no sound. He
     recognized Alicia’s hand; it still wore the ring he had given her for her birthday.
    Sometime later, although Colonel Mills was never exactly sure when, as the ghastly task of collecting together what was left
     of the butchered bodies and digging graves for them was under way, a massive earth tremor ripped through the ground and the
     whole sky was momentarily lit up, a vivid white, then orange light. The magazine, an immense store of ammunition in Delhi,
     had been blown up by the British forces to stop it falling into enemy hands and the effect of that explosion was felt for
     miles around.
    The small rabble of servants that had remained in camp ran screaming from what they were doing and cowered together, wailing
     and praying. Several of the soldiers dropped their tools; one lost his balance and stumbled.
    “What the damned hell was that?” Colonel Mills was perspiring heavily; large dark stains of sweat ran into the patches of
     black blood on his uniform. “Get up, man!” he shouted at a dhobiwallah, swinging his leg out and kicking him hard in the back.
     “Get up, I said!”
    “It came from the direction of Delhi!” one of the young officers called out. His uniform was also drenched in blood. He wiped
     his arm across his brow as he looked up and left a trail of dirt, sweat and blood on his skin. The colonel couldn’t bear to
     look at it; he turned away. “God only knows what’s happening there,” the young officer went on, “it could be any…” Suddenly
     his voice trailed away as he looked past the colonel’s shoulder. He saw a figure, a woman with a European shawl over her head.
     “What the devil…!” Dropping his spade, he broke into a run.
    Colonel Mills swung around. “My God! Alicia!” He recognized the silk and his whole body froze in shocked disbelief for a moment.
     Then he was running down after the young man, sprinting across the patch of open ground and onto the road toward his bungalow.
    The ayah had crawled out from under the eaves of the bungalow, terrified by the earth’s gross shudder, and she