Disclaimer: See Chapter One
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Chapter 7: On the Road Again
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"Well I can see for meself there's no one here, Captain Brilliance," Ana retorted sharply in a tone that clearly stated her ideas about his intelligence level. She stepped over the high brush and strode towards the village, Jack following at a more sedate pace.
"I like that," he exclaimed cheerfully, "From now on, missy, ye can address me as The Brilliant Captain Jack Sparrow. No, no. Make that: the Brilliant and Incredibly Dashing Captain Jack Sparrow. No, wait! How about—"
Ana clamped her hand on his arm to stop his rambling, stopping short when they reached such a distance that she could see the village clearly. Although it had been obvious there was no human movement before, they hadn't been able to see the actual state of the village. The huts were built with mud plaster walls, so they hadn't been completely demolished, rather now only the walls stood, somewhat slumped and scarred by the flames, giving Ana the distinct impression of being a ghost town. "Jack," she asked suddenly, "Ye don't think that witch—"
"Nah," Jack interrupted her readily, too readily really for comfort, "They're smart blokes, prob'ly went t'find shelter other places."
Ana smacked her head to her forehead in realization, "That's right," she mused aloud, "the water. They'd need water an' a safe place for the animals, an' most likely the water supply was wasted in tryin' to put out the fire."
"The question is," Jack answered, his boot kicked idly at a charred piece of log, pausing at the remains of what had previously been Ana's hut, "Where would they go?"
Ana shrugged tiredly, the mere shell of the village causing goose bumps to appear on her skin despite the hot sun blaring overhead. She was suddenly hit by inspiration, seeing a small desert rat peek its head out from the soil a little ways away and turned abruptly, running in the opposite direction. Jack stared after her, eyebrows raised curiously.
He sauntered up beside her as she knelt on the dusty ground, listening intently as she tapped a short stick at odd intervals in the earth. Her face lit up suddenly and she jammed the stick hard into the ground, soil crumbling beneath it. She hurriedly scraped the chunks of dirt away, reaching down into the gaping hole to hand up to Jack several gourd jars and some dried fruit wrapped in leaves.
Jack clutched the provisions to him protectively, watching her in amazement. "Neat trick," he commented, impressed. Kind of like the rumrunners cash, he mused, only it was like magically appearing food, and it felt cool to the touch as well. These Africans did know their stuff.
The pair wandered up and down the destruction-filled streets with what felt like their most precious loot, finally spotting a hut on the far west side of town that had not been badly burnt by the fire. They sauntered inside, spreading out the food and drink on the floor. Ana kept half of the fruit securely wrapped and put aside two jugs of water and the Himba form of alcohol, which she didn't mention to Jack, so it could be consumed later.
Biting into a dried fig, Jack leaned his head back against the clay wall, closing his eyes contentedly. Opening them to take the jug of water Ana lazily offered to him, his eyes narrowed and caught on something hanging by a bone shrine, similar to the one that had been in Ana's hut. He set down the jug and the fruit, climbing to his feet wordlessly.
Ana watched curiously as he swaggered over to it and plucked a piece of parchment from the top, unrolling it carefully. He sauntered back to her, dropping it onto her lap and sweeping up the jug again, drinking deeply. Ana stared at it, eyes widening surprise. "It's a map," she said slowly, tracing her fingers along the rough sketch and red-outlined route.
"Ah, Princess Brilliance, herself!" Jack exclaimed as though she had drawn the most ingenious conclusion, "Ye can be Princess Malika Brilliance Sexy Pirate L—"
Ana whacked him with the map, cutting him off, her eyes sparkling at the map's significance, "Ye know what this is?" she demanded with excitement.
"Darlin' did ye just tell me that it was a map?"
"It says where they are!" she shouted, frustration evident.
"But where are they?" he questioned, dark eyes narrowed in confusion as he intently studied the piece of parchment Ana was waving in front of his nose.
"Here, ye daft fool!"
"But what's it mean?"
Ana sighed, throwing the parchment at him. As he opened his mouth to question her more, she reached down and shoved a piece of fig into his mouth before he could get a word out.
"It's a map," she told him sharply, her tone telling him that he was on dangerous ground, "That shows where the villagers have gone to. Jimoh told me that durin'the different seasons they move around t'different locations, so this must be where the dry season village is. We were plannin' on goin' in another week or so, but with a change of plans…"
Jack swallowed the lump of fruit in his mouth. "So, that's where we hafta go?"
"Aye," Ana agreed, climbing to her feet and staring down with a set expression to lock eyes with the pirate. "Let's get started, then."
"Ana," Jack whined as she pulled him to his feet, "Can't we just sit an' rest a bit? Me toesies are hurtin', lass, an' walkin' ain't gonna make it better. Did I mention I don't feel so good?"
She rolled her eyes and ignored his incessant protests, scooping up the provisions and creating a makeshift bag from the bedcovers. She shoved the bundle into Jack's arms, pushing him out the door into the bright afternoon sunlight. "From what I figure, it's about a day's walk. We'll have t'stop for the night, I reckon."
Jack groaned, trudging after her as they skirted the edge of the forest they had been wandering through not even several hours before, berating himself under his breath. "Ah, sure this be dandy, ain't it? Yer stuck now, Sparrow, why couldn't ye have stayed in the lovely Caribbean? But nay, ye have t'go chasin' the girl off to another continent, gettin' lost an' chased by witches, don't ye?"
Ana rolled her eyes as she caught his distracted mumblings, seeing that he was off in his little bubble world. She studied the map for a moment, pausing in her step and alternating glances between the parchment and her surroundings. A river, a river. Aye, that was right. So they just needed to follow the river. Not to hard, right?
Wrong. The streaky late afternoon sun blared against her eyes, and shielding them, she realized that the sun was sinking to the horizon. "Jack," she said suddenly. He seemed not to notice, humming tranquilly and staring up at a large tree. "Jack!" Ana yelled again, hitting him on the arm with the map. He started, eyes going wide.
"Good God, Ana, ye don't need t'hit me!"
"Funny," Ana grumbled, pointing to the falling sun. "We need to stop an' make a fire so we know where we are in the mornin'. It be gettin' dark fast."
Jack rolled his eyes, "If ye insist, love." Not moving another step, he gracefully lowered himself to sit cross-legged on the ground, staring up amusedly at her. "Go 'head, make the fire"
Ana stared at him, "Why am I the one t'do it?"
"Because yer the lass," Jack stated as if his reasoning was obvious, "And the lass is always supposed t'wait on the man."
Ana narrowed her eyes and nodded sarcastically. "Hmm," she mused bitterly, "An' yer a man?"
"Come here an' I'll show ye what a man I am, love," Jack cooed, twisting one beaded lock around his finger seductively and staring up at her with a trademark smug smile.
Ana's arm shot out to slap him and he lightly caught her wrist, eyes darkening into seriousness. "Love, don't ye remember the last time this happened?" He lowered his lips dangerously to brush against her wrist.
She did remember, remembered all too well to be sure. After the whole ordeal with Adler and the bounty hunters, he had tried seducing her, beginning with kissing her wrist. One of the first real conversations they'd had about themselves as a pairing, and the last. She knew that he remembered that as being the place that made her melt.
Ana's foot collided painfully with his ribs and she stalked away angrily, looking for firewood like she had been so dead set against finding in the first place.
Jack smirked and leaned back against a small boulder, shining his grimy nails on his shirt and blowing on them triumphantly. Aye, this was his Ana for sure. He was Captain Jack Sparrow, mate. And Captain Jack got what he wanted.
Ana slammed the branches on top of each other in her arms, each making an angry clacking sound as she bitterly thought of which torture method would cause Jack Sparrow the most pain. She was positive that Shangazi must have some sort of itching potion that would make him most uncomfortable.
Of all the arrogant, stuck-up, male pigs in the world, why was she stuck in the African wilderness with this one?
Furiously starting back to where she had left him, so caught up was she in her heated thoughts that she stumbled over a loose stone. Firewood rained down around her. Ana squeezed her eyes shut and bit back a frustrated scream.
She felt something grab her round the middle, heave her over its shoulder, and take off down the bank. Ana yelled angrily, beating her fists uselessly down on Jack's back as she hurled useless curses at him. Halting suddenly, he deposited her in the slow-moving stream.
Ana sputtered as she splashed about angrily trying to find her footing in the waist-deep water, glaring at Jack as he stood and stared back at her, arms confidently crossed over his chest. "What was in bloody hell was that for?" Ana demanded irately, her drenched clothes sticking to her skin as she stood up.
"T'show that I'm the man and I'll do as I please with ye," Jack answered obnoxiously.
Ana clenched her fists and sent one flying at his gut, knocking him fully into the water. He surface, slowly spitting out river water in a steady stream, regarding her with serious eyes. "Now ye asked for it, love," he muttered passively.
Jack lunged for her, knocking her back into the shallow water of the riverbank and easily pinning her wrists. "I think we've found ourselves in such a position before, Princess," Jack reminded her, gold portion of his grin glinting in the fading sunlight.
Ana thrashed beneath him, whipping them around so she now sat straddling him. "I think this be somethin' new," she drawled deliberately.
"Oh," Jack uttered through his surprise, the beginnings of a new smile flitting across his face, "I don't think we've tried this position 'afore, darlin'."
"We've never tried any position 'afore!" Ana screeched.
She slapped him hard; his face snapped to the side with the blow. He slowly rotated his jaw, making no response to move his head back defiantly as was his normal reaction.
"Ana," he said, blinking slowly as his eyes stayed focused to the right of her, "Is it normal t'have a log with two eyes floatin' towards ye?"
Eyes snapping wide with shock, Ana rolled off of him and scrambled to her feet, grabbing his wrist and pulling her along with him. Just in time the two leapt back as a pair of wide jaws with rows of jagged teeth barreled down on the place where they had been only seconds before.
"Ever seen a little croc around Florida or one o' those places?" Ana asked, chewing her lip anxiously as they scurried back onto higher ground. The beast chose not to follow them, sinking back to submerge itself and wait for other prey.
Jack nodded breathlessly, face still housing its panicked expression.
"That was its great granddaddy," Ana explained, heaving a deep sigh as she anxiously picked at her sopping clothes and unsuccessfully attempted to wring the water out. Her fingers moved to twist her hair to remove the water, only to realize it was still in tight braids. Sighing, she trudged up the bank to where they had left their makeshift camp, beganning to stack the scattered firewood once more.
Admiring the way that Ana's clothes clung to her dark body, Jack shrugged out
of his thick jacket and untied his sash, spreading them over a low tree branch
beside the place where he had laid his hat neglected hat and carefully
deposited boots. Grinning mercilessly, he peeled off his thin shirt.
Ana turned with her arms stuffed with firewood, and with her eyes catching on a shirtless Jack Sparrow, the firewood flew from her grasp once more. "Jack!" she yelled heatedly, kneeling to pick them up once more, "Whatever's in ye head, get it out!"
Jack protested, countenance innocent, holding up his hand in peace, "Hold up there, I just wanted to dry out me shirt, that's all. Yer welcome to join me…"
Ana rolled her eyes, shifting uncomfortably in her damp clothes and focusing her gaze on her meager task as to not allow her eyes to be drawn to him. The sun setting, Ana made a cheery little fire and crouched beside it, holding out her hands to its warmth to dry her damp body.
The sun waved its farewell over the horizon and Jack sat a little ways away from her, humming benignly as he drew a pocket knife and began to absently whittle a piece of wood. They ate more fruit and drank a rationed portion of water, Jack finally discovering the alcohol much to his liking, and then the pair mostly settled in silence. As darkness set in, Ana fed more wood into the fire, her skin feeling clammy to the touch; after all, a barely existent shirt and small kilt-type bottom, both damp, were not sufficient coverage.
Jack carefully touched his shift, finding it still damp. He tugged his jacket from the branch and shoved one arm in to ward off the chill and paused, suddenly thinking better of it when he spotted Ana's condition. Wordlessly, he silently stepped behind her and draped it over her bare shoulders.
Ana's head whipped around at the pressure, mouth falling open. "No," she insisted, handing it back to him, "Ye'll need it."
Jack dropped down beside her, spreading his legs leisurely and propping his head up on his damp sash and ignoring her comment. Ana spread it over him in protest, sitting back and crossing her arms over her goose-flesh chest as she stonily stared into the fire. "Ana, don't be stupid," Jack advised her hotly, "Ye'll catch a chill."
"No I won't." she said stubbornly.
"Mercy's name, Ana, yer not invincible," he told her in exasperation, "Bein' daft is somethin' I expect from me, not ye, now ye take it or come 'ere so we both can have it."
Ana shuddered suddenly as her slight shivers added up, a petulant scowl settling itself on her face. She crawled over to him and lightly curled up beside him, barely touching. Jack rolled his eyes, muttering an oath as he still felt her trembling. Strong fingers seized her by the arms and hauled her into the cradle of his legs so she was lying sprawled across his chest, ear pressed against his heart, spreading the jacket so that it covered her.
Jack smiled and closed his eyes briefly. A deep rumbling in his chest reached Ana's ears and she realized that he was humming peacefully some tune that she couldn't recognize.
The woman shifted against him, frowning thoughtfully. "Jack," she finally murmured, bursting with questions and figuring now was a good a time as any to ask, "Why did ye come after me?"
"I told ye," Jack told her, and she got the distinct impression he was rolling his eyes, "It's me Spanish—"
"Damn it, Jack," Ana growled, trying to sit up and finding his arms were steel bands keeping her in place, "It isn't yer bloody coin, and ye know it."
"Why did ye leave me, then?" Jack shot back at her.
She ignored the childish reasoning that she had asked him first and dropped her head back onto his chest, staying perfectly still for several moments while she thought about her response. "I had t'finish what me father started. I know I could 'ave bloody well ignored it, but I know I'd always be thinkin' o' the 'what-if's' an' the obligation I 'ave." She sighed, teeth imbedding themselves in her lower lip, speaking in a smaller voice than Jack had ever heard her, "Ye don't know how much I've wished things were different."
"Nay," Jack answered her slowly, craning his neck up to study the top of her head, "Ye can still come back t'the Caribbean, t'the Pearl. Nothin's ever final."
Ana didn't answer, beginning to nibble on her lip. Jack choked, steeling himself to say those words that he once swore he'd never admit, "I'm—I'm—"
"Aye, yer…" Ana prompted curiously.
"I'm s—s--so—"
Ana rolled yer eyes. "Yer sorry. Good, fine, dandy. I'm sure ye are."
"No yer not sure!" Jack exclaimed petulantly. The moon and the stars and this forest were doing strange things to the pirate, he thought accusingly, "Ye want to know why I'm here, don't ye? It's like…" he searched for a metaphor that she might understand. "It's like the Pearl."
Ana huffed in frustration, squirming against the bonds that held her. Not that bloody ship again… "Jack, stop gettin' all philosophical on me. Yer gonna regret what ye say in the mornin'."
"No," he protested defiantly, voice growing more subdued with fatigue, "'Cause all it's true and gotta be said." He started to explain his metaphor again, one of his hands weaving its way into Ana's thick braids. "It's like the Pearl. She's me freedom, she's me possession o'value, she's me shelter. But ye, yer that an'more. Yer me home, the one that I can't ever lose."
Ana felt Jack's lips brush against her forehead and his lips curl into a gentle smile. His rough speech grew softer, lasping into that from before he turned pirate and all the coarse years at sea and rowdy company had hardened him. "I'll always find me way back to you, but all I can do is hope that you'll find your way back to me."
Ana felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes. She knew it was the drink speaking so gallantly, but still this was what her girlish fantasies had been hoping for all along. "I will," she whispered, reaching her hand up to rest on his cheek, "Pirate's oath."
She waited in heavy silence for his reply. When she didn't get one, Ana twisted her head up, catching sight of his softened face in the gold firelight, eyes closed and fast asleep, an innocent smile capturing his lips.
Ana rolled her eyes. "Figures," she muttered in frustration, nestling into his warmth and closing her eyes, attempting to dream herself into the same place Jack Sparrow now was.
A moment later, she heard a sudden twig snap to her right and tensed under Jack's heavy coat, hand itching for her dagger just below her hip. She poked Jack sharply, not turning around to alert the intruder. Jack grunted and swatted her hand away, obviously deep in drunken sleep. Ana sighed. A rock, he was when he was out like this. She'd have to do this on her own.
Ana thought better of her dagger, realizing that Jack's cutlass lay several yards away neatly tucked beside his hat. She pushed off the jacket and leaped up, her dagger in front of her menacingly, still knowing it would do little good depending on what she was facing.
Through the light of the glowing embers, Ana could see the outline of a large man motionless along the edge of the clearing. Seizing a large knotted stick she shoved it into the fire, the stirring sparks showing her just who she was facing. In the brief flash, she gasped as she saw his eyes.
They were rolled back into his head, no pupils visible and only the white glaring back at her. She saw the scars marring his grayish body and realized with a rush of panic that this was a zombie, the undead. Anamaria fought to breathe.
How do you kill the dead?
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AN:
Missymouse: if you're still asking and haven't gotten my replies yet, I don't think POTC gave Anamaria a last name so I've just made one up. However, I have no qualms about you borrowing 'Santagio' if you so like. Good luck!
Please review! Those who do so so faithfully, here's to you!