Disclaimer: See Chapter One.
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Chapter 8: Late Nights and Early Mornings
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Ana grasped her dagger tightly, looking out of the corner of her eye to see the sleeping pirate captain roll over and snort, murmuring something as he sighed. She locked her gaze, black against unseeing white, with the intruder. She threw the stick into the fire that she had just used to stir it, praying that it would catch a flame and shed the desperately needed light.
Slowly with a labored grunt, the zombie stepped forward around the fire, seeming to tilt back and forth as he walked. She could see that in his hand he grasped a large rough club. She glanced around, chewing her lip as it paused before suddenly rushing at her.
Ana met it with a warrior yell, slashing out with her dagger. It arched through the air to imbed itself into his neck. The thing was not phased, smiling with a mouth full of rotten teeth and swinging his club madly through the air. Throwing her head back, she barely managed to avoid a blow to the head and leaped out of the way to avoid it coming at her gut.
Feeling triumphant with herself, she didn't see it coming, hurling out of the darkness to catch her across the knees. Anamaria stumbled back, falling to the soft earth with a muffled thump and angry cry. Seeing the club rear back again, she rolled quickly to the side, the weapon thudding dangerous close to her ear.
The woman, weaponless, looked around frantically as the dead man raised his club from the ground and staggered towards her fallen form. Desperately, she rolled to the side, she sprang to her feet.
Now situated on opposite sides of the ironically cheery fire, Ana scooped a large rock from the ground and flung it into the far side of the embers, glowing coals springing up to scald the skin of the attacker.
He grunted, throwing up his grey-tinged hands to brush them away, temporarily hindered.
"Jack, ye bloody man, wake up!" Ana screeched desperately, backing away from the fire into the shadows.
The pirate curled his legs up and snored loudly.
The zombie, angry black burnt scars visible on his monstrous face and shoulders, fixed his sightless eyes on a new target: Jack Sparrow.
Ana's heart thudded to a stop.
"Jack!" she yelled hoarsely, making a desperate lunge for his forgotten cutlass as the aggressor started with his staggering step towards the passed out pirate. Rushing at him with a burst of new determination against this tireless, bloodless foe, Ana swung the sword madly with both hands.
Later, she would realize that the dead tissue of his body and bones must have become softer than a normal person, but at the time what happened next came as a unimaginable shock and the event that haunted her nightmares.
The zombie's head fell neatly off.
Ana's terrified and horrified scream pierced the heavy night air.
It fell to the ground with a thud, bloodless with only grey-purple tissue visible where there should have been a fountain of red. The foe swung his club madly in the air, enraged with the loss of his head. Not able to sense the obstacles that surrounded it, the bludgeon crashed into a large tree trunk, flung from the decapitated man's lifeless fingers.
Ana seized it in her shaking fingers. With a snarl she began to beat the possessed corpse, driving him back into the darkness. The thing stumbled backwards as she aimed one vicious blow to the abdomen. She bared her teeth, driving the broad end of the club once more into his soft stomach. The zombie doubled over and lost its footing, tumbling back over the edge of the river bank.
It rolled backwards into the dark stream, landing with a loud splash in the water. Ana strained her ears, but heard nothing for several moments, not even the sounds of advancing footsteps. Ana tensed, readying her crude weapon again.
Suddenly a large splash and sharp snapping of teeth on bone shook the still night, and with the faint light from stars and the fire glancing off the water, Ana saw two creatures struggling in the water. One was clearly winning. Lowering the club, Ana breathed a sigh of relief. Mamba* had come to their aid.
Attempting to walk back towards the spot where Jack lay slumbering, her limbs suddenly went weak in realization of the sudden events. She squeezed her eyes closed, throwing down the club with a muffled thump to the soft ground as if it had scalded her fingertips.
Several feet away, Jack Sparrow jerked awake, his eyes flying open. Blinking several times to distinguish dream from reality, his gaze switched from Anamaria's swaying to the body-less head that her horrified gaze was fixed on. Jack heaved a sigh, climbing to his feet. He'd be slapped for this one, to be sure.
"Ye've been busy, love," he remarked finally, scooping up the abandoned club casually and grasping it in one hand as if testing the balance of one of Will Turner's fine swords.
The woman's mouth fell open as she watched him waltz over to where the bloodless and motionless head rested. He bent over, glared into the darkness, and suddenly swung the weapon to connect the butt end soundly against the proximity of the ear.
Anamaria clapped her hands over her mouth and her eyes went wide in shock as the head flew out in the direction of the river, uttering a small cry. Her mouth opened and closed several times before she was able to form words. "Have ye no respect for the dead?" she accused him finally, a horrified expression set firmly on her face.
"He isn't dead, Ana. Whoever he was in life, the spirit ain't there. It was replaced by somethin' evil."
"Oh." She mentally kicked herself. What a brilliant conclusion to make; a fool she was, already knowing and forgetting this small fact. She stared at the ground and sank her teeth into her lip.
Hands on her forearms made her glance up to meet Jack's dark gaze, eyes filled with golden threads in the firelight. The pirate led her to where he had been sitting, stooping to pick up his sword. He settled her down beside him, similar to their prior position, one arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders as she used his shoulder to cushion her head. He shook out his coat and regally spread it over them once again.
Kissing her temple, he placed the sword and club beside them, easily within reach. His lips brushed against her ear as he whispered to her. "Why didn't you wake me?"
Ana's palm shot out of the darkness to bounce off of his forehead. "Fool o' a pirate, ye are," she hissed as he protested indignantly, "don't ye think I tried?"
"I think ye just wanted the glory for yerself," Jack predicted with a smirk, condescending finger wagging just beyond the tip of her nose.
The woman rolled her eyes, giving up as she sighed softly and buried her face in Jack's chest, her eyelids drooping with emotional and physical exhaustion. "Right ye are," she muttered indifferently.
Jack smiled smugly, fidgeting back and forth to get comfortable in the earth. "I'm always right," Ana heard him mutter as she drifted off to sleep.
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Bloody bird…
Jack wrinkled his nose and squeezed his eyes more tightly closed in attempts to ward off the yellow light burning through his eyelids. Somewhere above him, a bird was singing…if one could call that singing. More like annoying rubbish, Jack amended, attempting to roll over.
Something was in the way, he realized thoughtfully. The pirate blinked his eyes open, lashes shielding him from the risen sun. Anamaria was curled against him, dwarfed by his thick jacket. Her hand was resting over his heart. Jack's stomach flipped at the realization, warmth spreading through his stiff appendages. A slow smirk inched its way across his face.
Attempting to move his arm and finding it numb and unable to move beneath Ana's weight, Jack narrowed his eyes mischievously, poking her in the bicep. She grunted and settled down more heavily on him.
Jack frowned. He tried again.
Ana's hand shot out to lock iron fingers on his wrist. Not opening her eyes she mumbled, "If ye do that again, I'll have t'begin cuttin' certain body parts off."
Jack's eyes widened in horror, "Ye wouldn't!"
"Maybe," Ana replied, sleepily opening her eyes and regarding him with a cat-like expression, "But I don't think ye'd want t'take the chance, aye?" The dark-skinned woman rolled off him, climbing onto her cramped legs and stretching them leisurely.
Jack screwed up his face. Aye, she most likely would. He'd heard stories…The pirate shook his head with an expression of horror on his face; it was a scary thing, indeed to threaten a man with.
Ana tossed lightly tossed the now-sitting pirate the bag of provisions, studying the map in front of her. "Come on," she told him cheerfully, "If we be lucky, we'll get there by noon."
Jack hauled himself up a tree to a standing position, stumbling after her grumpily. "Hey, Ana…" he tried to ask her as she pushed through the brush ahead of him. "Last night, was it real?"
Spinning around to face him, Ana put hand on her hip, "Ye mean the a'cursed zombie when ye wouldn't wake up and help a poor, defenseless princess?"
"Aye," Jack agreed, leaning on his sword handle as he contemplated her dangerous stance.
"Then 'aye's' yer answer," Ana rebutted sharply, turning on her heel to continue on their way, Jack following with complaints marring the tip of his tongue.
"What about breakfast?" he demanded tetchily some time later, stopping for the second time in ten minutes to sit on a mossy boulder and stare pleadingly up at her.
Ana bit her tongue and raised her eyes skyward asking for patience. "Ye have the bag o'food there in yer own two hands, Jack," she pointed out finally.
"Ah yes," Jack realized with a grin, opening the bag and digging around in it. Triumphantly he pulled out a dried fig, only to stare at it bleakly. "Can't ye make a fire an' cook me somethin'?" he asked impetuously, reminding her of an overindulged child.
"I swear ye are the most stuck-up, mangy, spoiled rotten pirate I have ever met!" Ana roared in frustration, throwing her hands up.
"Aye…" Jack agreed, leaning on his drawn-up knee to rest his chin in hand, meeting her eyes knowingly, "But ye love me."
The African woman's mouth opened and closed several times, unable to think of a retort. She closed her eyes and cast them downward, pursing her lips and turning away from him. "We should continue on to the village," she said in a tight voice, "Will and Elizabeth will be wantin' to know that yer safe."
Consulting her map, Ana stomped off through the forest on her way, not giving him the satisfaction of a backward glance to see if the pirate was following.
Jack snatched up the bag and sprang off his perch, scurrying
after her as she marched on like some kind of warrior. Her reaction frankly
puzzled him, but yet…she didn't deny it,
he reminded himself smugly.
"Ye do love me," Jack pressed, quickening his pace so he was right behind her.
Ana said nothing, her face expressionless as she continued to hurry in the same direction.
"I know ye do," he said again, knowing if he continued on she would eventually…
Ana snapped. As she whirled around, the pirate almost plowed into her, her dangerous finger shoving itself into his face. "No more!" she yelled angrily, slowly advancing on him so he was forced back step by step.
"I have had it with yer sweet words and yer complainin' and yer 'come back with me' because frankly, I can't do it! I can't leave, and if I stay, I can't love ye! Understood?"
Jack's head met the back of a tree and he was trapped. Gulping, he gazed into her furious eyes, something in them making him look harder. However as soon as he recognized it, she had slammed down a veil barring emotion from her features. "Impeccably so," he squeaked.
"Good," she snapped, dropping her finger and stepping back, "because the village is right through those bushes."
His eyebrow's rose and he blinked at her through dark eyes, carefully scooting around her to look for himself. Indeed it was, with the dark-skinned people moseying about with their cattle and the small children playing in the dirt. "Shall we?" he asked her finally.
"Aye," she replied, pushing her way through them and stepping out into the clearing. Triumphant shouts began to erupt around them as the tribe realized the pair's presence, and almost instantly, Anamaria was swarmed by children and the villagers, all beaming at her and appearing to be in prayers of thanksgiving.
Through the chaos, Ana's eyes locked with Jack's and both froze, breath catching and heart's pounding.
A quiet cough at his side caused the pirate to break the contact, glancing down to his right. A white-haired, heavily adorned woman whose head came to his shoulder stood beside him, following his prior gaze to stare at the display.
He recognized her as Anamaria's aunt and the girl Nyako's grandmother, the person who had been leading the tribe. What did Jimoh say she was called…Shan—something. He bowed his head in respect to her.
"I thank you for returning my niece to us," the woman said quietly in heavily accented English, her tiny beady eyes steady on Anamaria.
Jack's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and his mouth opened to voice his surprise at her knowledge of the language. Gaze switching to her lined face, he realized it must have been Jimoh who had taught her as well.
"But," she continued, "I fear you have bad effect on Malika. You are visitor, but know she does not need you."
The pirate's eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open. He hadn't been expecting that of all things from this elderly woman. However, her next words pitted themselves deep in his stomach.
"You are not wanted here. Stay away from her."
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*Mamba = crocodile
AN: ugh, this chapter was horrible to write and just took forever! Reviews would be so incredibly lovely and hopefully would make the next chapter less painful to write.
Much love to my reviews and readers.
~Night Rose