Chapter 6
"Bock bock bock?"
Something was pulling my hair. I groaned and raised a hand to swat it away, then reconsidered and dropped my hand.
"Bock bock bock?"
"Go away," I muttered, resting my head on the dirt. Smoke filled my nostrils, acrid and dusty and choking, and I coughed and gagged. The chicken stared. I sat up, finally opening my eyes. I gasped. The chicken stared.
Burned, charred remnants of the buildings were all that remained. Bloody corpses were strewn around the street, and the survivors huddled around the bodies, carrying away those that looked like they might survive. A little boy around seven was carried away, both his knees shot. He moaned, his tears leaving white trail down his dirty face. An old woman wept over the body of her dead husband. This was hell in its purest, most evil form. I shivered, swallowing back my tears.
Will. His name screamed in my mind, and I stood up, my knees shaking. Was he dead? Was he captured? Was he lying somewhere in the street, bleeding to death, waiting for someone to help him? I walked quickly down the street, trying to keep my head clear and my eyes peeled.
There he was. Lying on his back, spread-eagle, a dud bomb near his feet. With a low cry, I knelt by him, cradling his head in my arms. He didn't respond. His face was scratched, and his hand was bleeding, but he didn't appear to be shot. Oh my Will.
"Will," I sobbed, burying my face in his hair. "Will." My salty tears made small puddles on his cheekbones and broad forehead. My brother. My twin. My only family. I wept harder, my body shaking.
He made a small sound, maybe a moan or a grunt. I was silent, my eyes wide. His eyelashes fluttered, and he looked dazed. But he was alive. Alive! He was alive! A new wave of tears broke over, and I pummeled his chest.
"YOU IDIOT!" I bellowed. "YOU COULD'VE BEEN KILLED! I ALMOST DIED! YOU ALMOST DIED! I'M GOING TO BREAK YOUR NECK, YOU POOR SUBSTITUTE FOR SLIME!" People turned to stare, but I didn't care.
"Meg," he whispered.
"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!? YOU LOCKED ME IN A ROOM THAT GOT BOMBED! YOU IDIOT, YOU MORON, YOU-"
"Meg!"
"What?"
"Where's Elizabeth?"
I smacked myself in the head. "Oh no," I whispered. "They took her away. They took her, Will." My head began to spin, and I wavered.
"Be strong," he said, wrapping an arm around me and standing up. "We have to find her."
"How?"
He stared past me, and I turned around. Commodore Norrington was in the cement square, with a map and instruments. Governor stood near him. Will grasped his ax in hand and marched over there, me in his furious wake.
"They've taken Elizabeth," he said to turned backs. "We must save her."
"Young Turner, there is nothing we can do. We've sent out a ship, but it's hopeless to even think she'd still be alive. Take him away." Norrington didn't even look at him.
"But we must-"
"William," Governor said. "If there is anything you know.anything.about where my daughter is, please tell me." Will was quiet.
"Captain, please alert the sailors that the ship will be leaving in a few days," Norrington said, dismissing Will, who's temper was quickly getting the better of him.
He threw his ax deep into the wood table. "THAT'S NOT GOOD ENOUGH!" he roared, and everyone was silent. I had never seen Will so furious before, not even when I stole his trousers and he ran about the street naked trying to get them.
"Young Turner, we could send out all the ships we have, but it wouldn't matter. That was the fastest ship in the world, The Black Pearl; there's not another person or ship that could follow them," Norrington said in a steely tone, yanking out the ax by the butt.
"So there's no man who can track down the ship?" Will asked quietly, starting to sound defeated.
"Jack Sparrow," the thin soldier from the other day piped up. Everyone turned to him. "He-he talked about the Black Pearl."
The fat one sighed. "Mentioned is more like it," he corrected.
"Find him," Will demanded. "Do something. Make a deal with him, he can lead us to her."
"Turner," Norrington snarled, his voice full of venom. "I make the choices here, I make the commands." He met my eyes and held them, and I stared defiantly. He cocked his head. "Now go take your sister somewhere and do something useful." He nodded towards a guard, who put his hand on my shoulder. I slapped it away, marching angrily from the building, Will at my heels. But instead of turning left, he started jogging right. With a groan, I picked up my skirts and ran after him.
"Will! Where are we going?"
"To the prisons."
"Bock bock bock?"
Something was pulling my hair. I groaned and raised a hand to swat it away, then reconsidered and dropped my hand.
"Bock bock bock?"
"Go away," I muttered, resting my head on the dirt. Smoke filled my nostrils, acrid and dusty and choking, and I coughed and gagged. The chicken stared. I sat up, finally opening my eyes. I gasped. The chicken stared.
Burned, charred remnants of the buildings were all that remained. Bloody corpses were strewn around the street, and the survivors huddled around the bodies, carrying away those that looked like they might survive. A little boy around seven was carried away, both his knees shot. He moaned, his tears leaving white trail down his dirty face. An old woman wept over the body of her dead husband. This was hell in its purest, most evil form. I shivered, swallowing back my tears.
Will. His name screamed in my mind, and I stood up, my knees shaking. Was he dead? Was he captured? Was he lying somewhere in the street, bleeding to death, waiting for someone to help him? I walked quickly down the street, trying to keep my head clear and my eyes peeled.
There he was. Lying on his back, spread-eagle, a dud bomb near his feet. With a low cry, I knelt by him, cradling his head in my arms. He didn't respond. His face was scratched, and his hand was bleeding, but he didn't appear to be shot. Oh my Will.
"Will," I sobbed, burying my face in his hair. "Will." My salty tears made small puddles on his cheekbones and broad forehead. My brother. My twin. My only family. I wept harder, my body shaking.
He made a small sound, maybe a moan or a grunt. I was silent, my eyes wide. His eyelashes fluttered, and he looked dazed. But he was alive. Alive! He was alive! A new wave of tears broke over, and I pummeled his chest.
"YOU IDIOT!" I bellowed. "YOU COULD'VE BEEN KILLED! I ALMOST DIED! YOU ALMOST DIED! I'M GOING TO BREAK YOUR NECK, YOU POOR SUBSTITUTE FOR SLIME!" People turned to stare, but I didn't care.
"Meg," he whispered.
"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!? YOU LOCKED ME IN A ROOM THAT GOT BOMBED! YOU IDIOT, YOU MORON, YOU-"
"Meg!"
"What?"
"Where's Elizabeth?"
I smacked myself in the head. "Oh no," I whispered. "They took her away. They took her, Will." My head began to spin, and I wavered.
"Be strong," he said, wrapping an arm around me and standing up. "We have to find her."
"How?"
He stared past me, and I turned around. Commodore Norrington was in the cement square, with a map and instruments. Governor stood near him. Will grasped his ax in hand and marched over there, me in his furious wake.
"They've taken Elizabeth," he said to turned backs. "We must save her."
"Young Turner, there is nothing we can do. We've sent out a ship, but it's hopeless to even think she'd still be alive. Take him away." Norrington didn't even look at him.
"But we must-"
"William," Governor said. "If there is anything you know.anything.about where my daughter is, please tell me." Will was quiet.
"Captain, please alert the sailors that the ship will be leaving in a few days," Norrington said, dismissing Will, who's temper was quickly getting the better of him.
He threw his ax deep into the wood table. "THAT'S NOT GOOD ENOUGH!" he roared, and everyone was silent. I had never seen Will so furious before, not even when I stole his trousers and he ran about the street naked trying to get them.
"Young Turner, we could send out all the ships we have, but it wouldn't matter. That was the fastest ship in the world, The Black Pearl; there's not another person or ship that could follow them," Norrington said in a steely tone, yanking out the ax by the butt.
"So there's no man who can track down the ship?" Will asked quietly, starting to sound defeated.
"Jack Sparrow," the thin soldier from the other day piped up. Everyone turned to him. "He-he talked about the Black Pearl."
The fat one sighed. "Mentioned is more like it," he corrected.
"Find him," Will demanded. "Do something. Make a deal with him, he can lead us to her."
"Turner," Norrington snarled, his voice full of venom. "I make the choices here, I make the commands." He met my eyes and held them, and I stared defiantly. He cocked his head. "Now go take your sister somewhere and do something useful." He nodded towards a guard, who put his hand on my shoulder. I slapped it away, marching angrily from the building, Will at my heels. But instead of turning left, he started jogging right. With a groan, I picked up my skirts and ran after him.
"Will! Where are we going?"
"To the prisons."