Author's Note: Ok, this chapter has been torturing me in every which way ever since I even thought about beginning it. I carried around my stupid notebook for days, trying to beat this thing out of my head. When I finally got it started, it took me 2 hours to write the first couple hundred words, which pretty much got rewritten later. But today I finished! It's not as good, detailed, or long as I'd planned, but I'm sick of staring at it. So I come home from school all ready to type it up and get it posted, only to find that my modem had been fried by lightning!!!! LIGHTNING!!! I'm started to think I wasn't meant to post this stupid chapter. But, I lugged my laptop over to my dad's house and am now trying to type this with his big fat cat's butt in my face (blame him for the typos) because I am determined to get this thing on the Internet and out of my site! Let's see what goes wrong this time.
I know I made it sound like this chapter would be really gory, but turns out I didn't have the stomach for my own ideas. I tried to write it and nearly got sick in first hour, so I toned it down a bit. Hope it's still good enough.
CHAPTER 10 – TO NO AVAIL
There was no point in trying not to scream. Even before the metal rod touched his skin he knew he would. It was futile to waste his energy on a war with his vocal chords. So he didn't.
Ask him later, and Jack wouldn't be able to say if he had screamed or not. All he knew at that moment was pain. The metal pressed into his stomach, just below his broken rib, scorching him. Words flashed across his brain, blocking out all else. "FIRE! PAIN! HELP! STOP!"
Suddenly, the room was empty. He heard no voices and saw nothing but black. But the pain was still there…and a stench. He knew he recognized it. The back of his mind awoke and searched his memory, desperately trying to place the smell. Then it froze on an image. He could see a fire, raging through a town, people running and screaming, trapped in buildings, burning to death. "So that's it, is it? That's what you smell," his brain said, with a surprising calm. "Burning flesh. You're burning alive, Jack." His pain-addled mind found this rather humorous, but when he opened his mouth to laugh he only screamed again.
Lange's men took turns with the metal rods. One after another they would sear his chest and stomach, then go back to reheat the instrument. Lange himself did not participate, but stood at Jack's head, arms crossed over his chest, staring down at the pirate withering in agony. Jack's eyes were open and he was looking directly at Lange, but the older man knew he was seeing nothing. He leaned down and whispered into Jack's ear, "You brought this on yourself, lad."
Slowly, Jack's senses came back to him. He could hear distant laughter and voices that steadily grew louder and louder until they surrounded him and rattled his brain. His vision was blurry but worked its way back into focus. When he could see clearly he was horrified to find himself staring directly into Lange's eyes.
This did not escape Lange's attention. "Welcome back to the land of the living, boy. You won't be here for long."
Lange pushed open the door of Will's cell. The twins were leaning against the far wall, ignoring the bloody mess chained opposite them. They had given up on the young blacksmith not long after the screams had started down the hall, preferring to relax and enjoy the show. They had taken bets on how long Jack would last.
"Any success?"
"Bloody whelp's useless. He ain't sayin' nothin'."
Lange peered closely at Will. "Well, of course ht's not. It seems you've beat him unconscious. Let's see if we can remedy that." A bucket of rancid water sat in the corner, and Lange threw it in Will's face. The blacksmith woke with a start as the cold water splashed into his face and cascaded down his chest, mixing with the fresh blood staining his shirt.
"Good to see you're awake, Mr. Turner. I hear you've been less than cooperative."
"Hard to cooperate when you don't have any answers," Will slurred, the blood thick in his mouth.
Lange gave a melodramatic sigh. "Very well, boy, you win. For today that is. If you're too damned stubborn to respond to such a thorough beating, then I'll have to take more drastic measures."
"How lovely."
"Well, I didn't have much of a choice. In the grand scheme of things, you're really no worse for wear. But Mr. Sparrow is quite a different story. You see, he's being much more difficult than I had anticipated. If I continue with my current methods he'll soon be dead and, frankly, he's not good to me in that condition. Oh, trust me, it would make me truly happy to watch the life drain out of him, but dead men tell no tales, eh? There's one tale I need him to tell me before I get to live out my dream. Unchain him," he commanded the twins.
Will dropped to the ground and collapsed. His whole body ached and his head felt like it was on the verge of exploding, but he still managed to push himself to his knees. It seemed he was momentarily stuck there, though, as his body refused to move further.
"I don't have time for this nonsense! Carry the bastard!"
As he was roughly hoisted off the ground, Will grunted. Inside, he wanted to cry and scream and curse and fight, all at once. But it all came out as a barely audible grunt.
The twins carried Will under the arms, letting his feet drag along the stone floor. He figured he could stumble along on his own well enough, but why bother? Take the free ride, he thought. The twins stopped for a moment before a door as Lange leaned in.
"Bring him out now…No don't bother with that…Just grab his boot!" Will watched through bloody, half-swollen eyes as they dragged Jack out of the room by one leg. The dim light radiating from the torches hung on the walls illuminated the unconscious pirate's bare torso. Will gasped.
Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I wanted to thank you all personally, but I have to drive home before it gets dark, so I'm running short on time. Please keep them coming, I'm sure all you writers know what they mean to me.