Chapter 31
The first sign of dawn began to show itself on the open ocean of the Gulf. Like a sleeping eye tenatively raising its lid, a small hint of light shown in the east. A subtle blue pushing its way through the dark night. Lighter colors began to follow suit, an array of purples, pinks and oranges that looked like sand art spread across the sky. Each new tone emerging quicker and transforming to another before the edge of the bright sun shone on the horizon.
It was breathtaking and at that moment, Sam Drake didn't give two shits about it.
His mind was focused on revenge and redemption. He had made three promises. He had made a promise to Victor he was going to keep Faith safe. He failed. He made a promise to Faith he would help her find the answers she wanted. He failed. Lastly, he had made a promise to himself that he wouldn't get attached to Faith, to the situation. Once again, he had failed. An angry red mist had settled over his thoughts, his plan to just storm through the front of the fort, guns blazing. A hail of bullets taking out everything and everyone in his path.
"There she is," The gravel of Sully's voice over the growl of the plane engines pulled Sam back to reality.
Sam's eyes focused on the discolored blotch in the distance. A brick blob floating in the vast blue ocean. As they approached it began to take shape, a massive brick hexagon, encircled by a moat and a ring of land that looked to serve as a port for ferrys, seaplanes and a walking trail for tourists. A cistern and weathered pikes, remnants of an old jetty no doubt, sat in the water along two sides of the path.
"You sure this is how you wanna go in kid?"
Sam's vision remained unwaivered on the approaching building.
"Just get me down to that dock," Sam answered, his voice almost zen like.
The landing gear of the plane cut quietly through the crystal water as Sully brought the plane down gently with an experienced hand. Sam was up and out of his seat in an instant.
"How long you think we got til Jasper's guys get here?" Sam asked, checking the holster at the small of his back he slipped his 9MM in, securing it with a snap.
"Couple hours, if were lucky. It's a lot of island to search and he'll want them to get an early start. I'll monitor the chatter, update you if I here anything," Sully said, driving the plane up to the dock. Sam nodded absently in agreement.
A small scrap of land a thousand meters from the fort stood its old, yet still maintained, lighthouse. Though still cared for, evidence by new dock planks and fresh paint, the island itself was overgrown thick with lush plant life. Mangroves and manchineel grew high and wide, obscuring whatever paths lay on the ground.
"Put the plane near the lighthouse, I'll let you know when we're coming out," Sam said, taking his favorite gun in hand. He popped the door of the plane open.
"Wait, wait, wait a minute," Sully pivoted in the worn vinyl seat.
"What?"
"That's all you're taking with you? You got all that firepower and you're just gonna bring in those two pistols?" Victor jutted his chin towards the gun in Sam's hand.
"With any luck, that's all I'll need," Sam let sardonic grin pull at the corner of his mouth.
"Since when have you had luck?" Sully snorted, making Sam frown momentarily.
"That's why I got Plan B."
"And what's Plan B?" Sully asked, chucking a small walkie-talkie to Sam. He clipped it to his back pocket.
"Just trust me."
Ready.
Sam clenched his jaw, a determined sigh jetting through his nostrils.
"I'm gonna make this right Victor," Sam said, a quiet declaration to both Sullivan and to himself.
"I know you will."
Sam jumped from the plane down onto the dock below him.
"Just be careful of the crocodile." Victor added.
Sam's nose wrinkled.
"Crocodile?"
"Go," Sully commanded, revving the planes motors, signal that any further discussion of this warning was over. Sam, albeit a little confused, slammed the metal door on the plane shut, giving the old girl a couple pats for good luck.
Alright Drake, let's go get our girl. The last of the sentence in his head formed spontaneously. He wanted it to be right, part of him did, but the truth of the matter hit him like a mule kick to the gut. It was wrong. With what he had done, she would never be his. There could be no forgiveness on her part or even to himself. He was right, this was a mission of redemption but with it would follow a hollow ending. Though he could make the world safe for Faith again, he could never set it right for her and give back what he had taken. His existence was like an unknown toxin in her life, corrupting each person around her he touched like a cancer, growing, consuming all grace. If he could take it, purge it from her system, purge him completely from her life. If he set this right and disappeared, it could finally be a cure where she could start over. She deserved that.
The building before him was old, massive and intimidating, not to mention giving a whole new meaning to the phrase, 'middle of nowhere'. The delicate thwack of the waters waves mixing with the hissing winds through the giant archways echoed, a foreboding accoustic mix that did nothing but add to the feeling of intimidation creeping up Sam's back.
So, to fight it off, he did the only thing he knew to do. Sam Drake shook a smoke from his pack, lit it with a quick flip of his lighter, cocked his gun and started walking forward.
He hiked over the packed gravel bridge that spanned the width of the fortresses moat, a wide ring of water clear enough to call its identity as a moat into question.
The day's heat and humidity had already started to rise. He felt a damp film of cool sweat tickle his lower back as he entered the fort, the masonry retaining its coolness of the night. Sam passed in front of the empty guard station and small sunken room off the main passage that acted as a gift shop. He reached the end of the main entrance, the conrete parting wide and grand to usher Sam into the sprawling courtyard of the fort.
Scrub grass crawled over the sandy surface, yellowing or balding patches pockmarking the ground's attempt at healthy green growth. Ruins of red brick walls clawed up through the grass trying to give shape to what was once some military building. The occasional palm tree swaying to it's own music. It was a vast open space that had been stripped of anything of useful to society over time, leaving the big building feeling naked and sad.
Sam stood quietly while he scanned the courtyard for any sign of Nox or his men. The smoke from the cigarette between his fingers swirled gently up his arm. The sounds in the air nothing but waves and the occasional squawk from an island bird. Sam allowed himself one last long drag before blowing large unsettled plumes out of his nostrils and crunching the rest of it under his boot. He took a couple of steps back into the main doorway and grabbed a glossy brochure from in front of the gift shop alcove, shaking it open while he walked towards the light of the courtyard.
Sam stared at the commercially colorized map.
"Faith does love a good map," He muttered under his breath as his eyes ran over the glossy commercial colors. The sound of her name dripping from his lips, a sweet rain that used to make him grin now single handedly enveloping him in a cloud of shame. Sam shook it off. Like most touristy maps, it highlighted the main focal points and obvious locations within the fort; ruins of the artillery shed, the cistern, the officers quarters and on the second floor at the end of a long hallway, the cell of its most famous guest. Knowing Jasper's penchant for drama and theatrics, Sam already knew that's where he would find Faith.
He crumpled the map and shoved it into his back pocket and headed for it at a jog. Sam hurdled over the sill of one of the inner archways and inside the running ring of the fort. Dirt and sand crackled under his boots as he passed arches, all in different states of erosion. Some of the more decrepit reduced to nothing but a craggy, terrifying gap dropping off into the courtyard or the sea. Yellow caution tape had been haphazardly strung across their width and pieces of orange, plastic snowfence pieced across them. Enough of a precautionary measure to avoid a lawsuit. Sam passed loose bricks and pieces of rebar, scant evidence of some sort of restoration effort that had occured at a point in time. The hallway veered right, leading him to a way up. The staircase was dark, narrow and spiraling, enough room for him but certainly not wide enough for two people side by side. Circling tightly and encased in concrete, it revolved only one and a half times before spitting the climber out on the second floor. It was a claustrophobics nightmare.
Before he could mount the stairs, the clatter of falling gravel on the steps above him gave him pause. Hearing faint movements but no conversation, he hoped it was just one guard. Slinking his way up the stairs, Sam kept his gun raised and his back pressed flat against the wall. Reaching the top, he peaked around the corner.
One guard was pacing slowly around a set of arches, his sidearm still sitting idle in its holster. The guard dragged the toe of his black workboot through the sand like a mandala, creating swirls and patterns. He let out a sudden, vicious sneeze. His foot twitched and spasmed, ruining his budding work of art. Frowning in disappointment, he swiped his foot through the rest until all that remained of his art just a pile of silt, dirt and sand. Sam watched it all silently from the staircase.
Got some real winners employed here, Jasper, He thought, stowing his gun as he watched the guard lean against the side of a stable arch, his gaze fixed on the ocean in front of him. Seizing the moment, Sam emerged from his hiding spot and with one quick kick, swept the leaning legs of the officer out from underneath him. He landed on the ground with a harsh thud, his face slack with surprise until a firm boot to the jaw from Sam rendered him unconcious.
Sam dashed soundlessly along the hallway, ears pricked up, eyes darting and alert. He reached the end of the hallway and its staircase to the next floor without incident. Sam eagerly ran up the stairs, taking two at a time-
THUMP!
A solid mass of a man slammed into his chest, the moment catching both of them offguard. Sam hit the back of the concrete capsule and rolled down along the wall, the edge of the stairs bit into his hip as he slid until he spilled back out onto ground floor. Sam righted himself, scooting backward as the large guard emerged from the shade of the staircase.
"Jesus, you're a big fella now, aren't ya?" Sam quipped. The massive man approached, adjusting his belt.
"Well, you know what they say, 'the bigger they are...," Sam prompted raising one foot, thrusting it towards the guard's knee. A moment before he could make contact, the guard swooped down with quick cat reflexes and grabbed ahold of Sam's boot.
"Ah shit."
The man jerked Sam's leg violently sideways, the tendons and nerves in his ankle and knee strained and screamed with pain. Sam yelled as his other foot shot out with pure reflex. The blow landed in the guards ample stomach, making him double over. The burly mans retching gave Sam the window he needed to slither away from his grasp. He was trying to reach the closest archway to get himself to his feet when a large boot slammed into his lower back.
Sam wheezed a curse and rolled awkwardly towards the wall, trying to lessen the blows of the quick kicks being administered to his stomach. Able to reach the eroded bottom of an archway along the wall, Sam grabbed frantically for a rock, a pipe, anything useful. Settling on a grapefruit size chunk of concrete, he whipped it at the guard. The rock thudded against the zipper of his crotch, sending him hard to his knees. Sam steadied himself upright. Back on his feet, he landed a right hook in the sweetspot, knocking the big guy out cold.
"Shit, why do they always have to go for the same knee?" He grumbled between heavy breaths. Sam worked it back and forth and tested putting pressure on it. He took a few hobbling steps as he batted the dust off himself and feeling for his gun still stored beneath his red overshirt. The pain amounted to all of a gnawing ache, nothing that his body hadn't felt and dealt with before.
The view from the arches passed like shuttering frames of film as Sam jogged towards his final set of stairs. The fort was still quiet, Jasper and the rest of his goons tucked away for now. Not knowing exactly how many men Jasper had already on the island, not to mention how many he had incoming that day, Sam planned on saving his bullets until he had no choice but to start shooting, something completely not his style. He took the last staircase with more caution than the last, his ears still raised for any sounds of people. The narrow opening from the stairs gave way to one last row of arches, all almost all intact. A heavy oak door faced him from the other end, a large worn beam securely seated to hold the door closed.
An all too familiar sign hung above the door, the words on it making his stomach churn.
Whoso Entereth Here Leaveth All Hopes Behind.
Mudd's cell. Faith.
The realization of how close he was to her drew him like a high powered magnet. Sam raced towards the door, heart pounding, the ache in his knee forgotten. He just needed to get her out.
Sam grabbed just underneath the center of the beam that was keeping him out. The veins on his forearms strained against his tanned skin as he tried desperately to lift the solid chunk of wood. Sweat coated his palms and the erosion of smoothed wood worked against him, the locking beam barely creaked in its cradle.
"Shit!" He swore loudly. Sam looked around wildly for something, anything that could be used to aid him in opening the door. The quick search produced nothing but a couple chunks of masonry and the remnents of a bag of mortar, the bag torn and scratched open. Nothing at all useful.
Sam's frustration and anger grew with every attempt to open the door. He was so close, this godforsaken door his last hurdle. In one last rage fueled action, Sam slammed his shoulder up underneath the end of the log. Phantom silver flecks flashed beneath his closed eyes as he strained against the wood.
"Please. God. Move...you...mother.." Sam commanded through gritting teeth, his whole body vibrating as he called on every ounce of energy he had. Sam finally felt the one side of the log begin to give. Sam slid himself under the end and with all his might, and a groaning, yelling swear, unseated the beam as thunked to the floor, missing Sam's toes by a scant inch.
No wonder it took both me and Nathan to open doors and shit in Libertalia.
Sam grabbed ahold of the large, iron ring and pulled, the door coming open with the hinges offering only a minor protesting squeak.
The adrenaline in his veins came to a sudden stop, along with his breathing.
He thought he was looking at himself in Panama.
The cell was small, with one small window, like his. Instead of humid sweat and sewage, this smelled of ocean salt and mildew. No cot, no sink, no bucket. Just a cement drain to keep the blood from pooling. The cells they stuck you in after un achicalada, to reflect, to repent, and to bleed. Hideyholes for the guards handiwork, keeping you all tucked away until one could stand, walk, possibly breathe through thier own nose again. From experience, Sam remembered relishing in the coolness of the concrete and eventually passing out against it, trying like hell not to lose your mind.
Sam snapped back to the present.
Faith had passed out against the back wall at some point in the night. The side of her body leaned against the concrete, her chin tucked to her chest. Dried blood flaked around her mouth and her nostrils, which whistled desperately for air. Judging by the familiar sound, Sam could guess her nose was more than likely broken. Sam's brow furrowed as he gingerly lifted her arm. Her knuckles were red and angry while the meat of her hands were so swollen, her rings squeezed into flesh that was a massive purplish bruise. He arms and legs were covered in welts, bloody, torn open raggedly, and blistering, burns that already starting to weep and go raw. Sam bit the insides of his cheeks.
Jesus Sweetheart, what the hell did they do to you? Sam thought, his stomach knotted as he looked at every burn, welt, cut, bruise and puncture mark, knowing the amount of time this kind of pain took to inflict.
Sam put her arm back down gently against her legs, which looked to have gotten the same attention as her upper body.
I gotta get her out of here. If her outside looks like this, who knows what her goddamn insides could look like.
"Faith," He called her name quietly. His hand hesitated in the air, settling on the side of her neck and running his hand across her shoulder. A site that looked like it hadnt seen much damage.
He called her name again a little louder, resisting the urge to pick her up and just haul ass out of there. If they ran into trouble, he know he couldn't shoot and carry her at the same time. And she was in no condition to shoot for him.
Faith's eyebrows twitched violently at the third call of her name. Her eyes flew open as she took in a breath and began to cough like a woman drownding in a dream. The pain in her head made her eyes shut tight again while she gingely brought her hands to her temple, her hands barely making contact.
"Faith, it's me," Sam said gently.
The cloud around Faith's brain made made her ears ring, her head roar and her face scream. Through it she thought she heard Sam's voice. Truth be told, she had been hearing it all night in micro dreams where they were still in their hotel room, each with a beer in hand, none of this or any of what Jasper said, having taken place. All a bad dream. If I was only so lucky, she had thought miserably during the night. But this voice was clearer, closer, and was delicately stroking her neck.
Faith let her hands drop slowly, a curtain reveal to see if this was just another trick of her imagination. She saw his eyes, the hazel that was usually bright and bursting with golden tones now a deep green brown like a muddy lawn.
"Sam?" Her voice croaked out his name and Sam thought there was no sweeter sound on this Earth.
"Yeah, sweetheart it's me. It's me. Let's get you out of here, alright?"
Sam saw Faith's face darken and knew something wasn't right.
Words flew through Faith's fogged brain. Some old. Some new.
Sam Drake caused this.
After all the misery Samuel Drake has caused to you and your family...
What happened to your father was his fault.
How in the world can you trust that man...
What happened to your mother was his fault.
Now myself, personally, I couldn't do it...
What happened to you is also his fault.
Arthur Bixby and Jasper Nox's voice playing in her head. A hellish, harmony, doubting tune she couldn't shake.
Faith batted away Sam's hand and coward agaisnt the wall. A constant chant of 'no, no, no' dribbled from her lips as she inched her way back into the corner with her heels.
Sam backed away slowly as she did. He stood and watched as Faith backed herself into the safety of the corner of the room, her knees brought to her chest, her face cowering behind her arms. She looked like a kicked puppy, scared to move, untrusting of the hand in front of it held out in friendship.
An onyx Eagle came from behind to rest of Sam's shoulder.
"Now what on God's green earth makes you believe she would go runnin' back into the arms of a murderer? Especially yours?"