Disclaimer: "Summon the LAWYER!" "Nooooooooes!"
A/N: I am aware that squids have more than eight legs. Please excuse Squirrel's inaccuracy later, but she was kinda under a bit of stress at the time. This chapter was… interesting… to write. Especially trying to explain the slow-mo scenes. Anyone who comments about tentacles and screaming schoolgirls will be death'd.
The sea was quiet and calm, but Squirrel could feel - sense - the Kraken beneath the ship. The Pearl's timbers shuddered in the creature's grip, rolling side to side against the current as the creature repositioned itself, tightening its hold.
Squirrel twirled the sword in the air, a bit of artfulness she instantly regretted. Her wrist - already aching from the weight of the sword - twinged, shooting pain up her arm. Wincing, Squirrel gripped the hilt of the sword hard, trying to keep focused, trying to fight the pain. She looked around, breathing slow, waiting. Your play, Davy Jones. Let's see what your monster's got.
"You coward."
Squirrel looked over her shoulder, and saw Elizabeth looking out to sea. There was defeat, incredulity in her pose. Broken trust surrounded her like a veil. Squirrel felt her heart ache all over again, seeing Jack fleeing in her mind's eye just as Elizabeth saw him now. Slowly, the grey-cloaked woman crossed to Elizabeth's side.
"Forget him," Squirrel said softly, her voice hoarse. "After all… he's forgetting us." She didn't even bother trying to hide the pain she felt.
Elizabeth bowed her head, gripping the ratlines so hard her knuckles were turning white. "I never thought he would…" There were no words fitting to this betrayal, this cowardice. None.
"Neither did I." Squirrel looked across the deck, to the other sea, then back to Elizabeth. "Are you ready?"
Elizabeth looked up at Squirrel, eyes hurt but dry of tears. "Are you?"
Squirrel lifted her sword, flicking the point to eye-level, then lowered it; a silent salute. Elizabeth nodded, and turned away, sparing the fleeing Jack only one backwards glance. Both women walked across the deck, each taking their positions and standing firm. Both shared a determination, a surety, a confidence. They stood, waiting the inevitable; one stood near the helm, the colour of her hair and skin gleaming gold, the other stood at the heart of the deck, fingering the silver amulet at her throat. One stood covered in sunshine, the other wrapped in the blue-grey cloak of moonlight. The two women's eyes met once more, and both nodded, each acknowledging the other. They knew what would come. So they waited, ready for it. As ready as they could be.
They did not have to wait long.
The entire ship shuddered, buckled, twisted. Men lost their balance, falling to their knees, slipping from the rigging, staggering. Squirrel crouched low, sword in one hand and pistol in the other, shaken but unmoved. She tucked the doubloon back under her shirt. Here it comes.
The water on either side of the ship gasped as the Kraken's tentacles rose, breaching the surface of the sea. They closed around the Pearl like giant's fingers; fingers which whipped and snapped around the hold; fingers which reached over the deck in a frenzy of destruction. Pistols fired, swords sliced, cannons roared; men screamed, screamed, screamed and died.
Squirrel drew back her arm and threw the spent pistol - it hit a tentacle and bounced harmlessly away, but the tentacle turned, seeking new prey. Squirrel ran, holding the sword in both hands, swinging and slashing at whatever stood in her path. The air tore at her throat with every breath - she was moving quickly, quickly, but not quick enough. Each of the tentacles moved with sure, swift purpose, a purpose that was casual but complete devastation.
You're dead. You're dead. You're dead.
"HEAVE!" Gibbs shouted. "Heave like you're getting paid for it!"
The steel in Squirrel's hands was heavy and unwieldily - it came too close to her on too many occasions. And the Kraken's arms moved fast, too fast, faster than she could run. She mad a mad dash across the deck, halting and jumping and swerving about as the Kraken brushed passed behind her, above her, alongside her. Every time one of those horrid green limbs came anywhere near her, she slashed and stabbed at them. Her throat was raw and sore, her muscles burned, and her lungs pleaded for air, but there was no time for that. If she stopped, if she hesitated, she was dead.
A tentacle swept before her, and Squirrel brought the sword down, hard. The blade sliced deep, holding onto the flesh of the Kraken and not letting go. The tentacle writhed, twitching in pain, flicking Squirrel's grip off of the sword, leaving her alone and unarmed on the deck. Helpless.
Something slammed into her from behind, and she was pushed to the deck. It was eerie - as she gasped for breath she couldn't help but notice that it somehow seemed somehow much quieter. Quieter, compared to the chaos she heard now. I've been screaming this whole time. Her ears were ringing.
The timbers below her echoed; there were sounds beneath her which she knew would haunt her nightmares for years to come. Screams and shrieks of helpless men, the crushing of crates, the scrape of monstrous arms against wood, and - Squirrel was nearly sick - the careless, callous crunch and pop of broken bones. Squirrel heaved herself to her feet quickly, wanting no part of it but unable to escape. There was no escape.
Did I condemn those men to die? Squirrel's eyes went wide with horror. Men were trapped below. I opened that barrel. They stayed down there because of what I did. Because of me. I killed them. I killed them.
The Kraken's horrible heartbeat laughed at her - You're dead. You're dead. You're dead.
Squirrel ducked as a tentacle swept towards her, and rolled aside. I need a weapon! She searched with panicked flickering eyes for something, anything… Her hand closed around a length of rope. It was better than nothing. She stood, readying it in her hands as the Kraken's tentacles swept across the deck. With a scream, she flicked it up in the air above her head, and brought it down as hard as she could. It was a mere slap, a harmless slap, which the Kraken did not notice. With fear and desperation coursing through her veins, Squirrel drew the rope back again, and again, and again, each time building speed until it cracked like a whip and drew blood. Squirrel crowed, but that crow soon turned to a scream.
The Kraken turned its attention to the loud and stinging insect on the deck.
Squirrel dived, rolling out of the path of the tentacles. They didn't find her - frustrated but patient, the tentacles probed the deck, spreading out, searching. And they searched quickly. They didn't care what or who got in the way, either. Prey was prey - food was food.
Squirrel refitted the rope in her hands and gritted her teeth. A tentacle found her; Squirrel snapped the rope in the air over her head and brought it down hard and sure. The tentacle recoiled and withdrew, hurt. But it would return.
A few brave men manned the crank which took Will and the net of kegs and barrels out of the hold and up into the air. But Squirrel had no time to think of them. She had no time to think - there was only time to act. Men all around her were screaming and dying, torn from the rigging, torn from friends' arms, flicked up in the air, over the water, into the Kraken's cold domain.
Squirrel stared out at the sea, suddenly paralysed. I can't swim.
You're dead. The vengeful tentacle rose above her. You're dead.
Squirrel shrieked, snapping the rope in her hands like a whip. Screaming, she drove the Kraken's arms back, back. She stood on the deck with a man she didn't know, a man she'd never seen before. He looked to her with such hopelessness in his eyes, knowing he was going to die. Squirrel ignored his fear - she didn't need a mirror. Still screaming, she lashed out at tentacles that came for her. She held the centre of the rope, and twirled it like a staff. Two stinging ends slapped the Kraken's tentacles, leaving welts or drawing minuscule amounts of blood or doing nothing but provoke the Kraken into attacking further. The arms rose before her and behind her and at every side; she fought them off, screaming. The man who fought beside Squirrel roared in frightened challenge, galvanised by her fear. His sword struck at the tentacles Squirrel could not defeat. His sword drew blood where her rope did not. His sword repelled the attackers that sought the rope. Squirrel and the sailor fought together. They watched each other's back. They fought for their lives.
"Miss Grey! Behind ye!"
A shot rang out, and Squirrel felt a bullet pass her shoulder. She danced away as the tentacle behind her thrashed and twitched. Kraken blood seared the air. Gibbs threw the now-useless pistol aside and ran to Squirrel, hand on the hilt of his sword. He was going to fight, defend her and his and everyone's lives. He looked about to speak, but Squirrel's eyes were wild, uncomprehending. All she saw were the snakes - all she knew was the fear. No words: words were useless. Only fear.
A tentacle swept across the deck like a nobleman's hand sweeping crumbs from his table. Yet it missed Squirrel, missed Gibbs, and plucked up the sailor between them. The sailor's sword was swept away - gone, lost in the carnage. Gibbs grabbed the man's hands, trying to save him; Squirrel slapped at the Kraken's arm with the rope, screaming all the while, acting out of instinct and panic rather than camaraderie.
"I got you!" Gibbs shouted. "I got you!"
But the Kraken plucked the sailor from Gibbs' grip and pulled the sailor, screaming, out to sea. Gibbs reeled from the recoil, tripping and falling backwards. The tentacle meant for him came and hit Squirrel instead. She tumbled, her senses reeling from the blow; somehow, she was still holding onto the rope with her left hand; her right hand flailed uselessly, reaching for who knows what.
The Kraken relieved Squirrel of her weapon. The suckers on the underbelly of the arm snagged the rope, and pulled it through her grip. Squirrel screamed as the skin on the palm of her hand was ripped off. The rope burned through her palm, tearing the skin with it. It was over in an instant, but the pain was excruciating and continued long after. Squirrel curled up around her hand, and stared, horrified, at the blood sprouting, pooling, congealing across her torn-open hand. She lay there, coiled up on the deck, still and staring.
"Move, lass!" Gibbs shouted. "Get up and move!" He shoved a sword in her right hand and hauled her to her feet, then was gone. Whether he was gone of his own free will, Squirrel didn't know. Didn't care.
She looked and saw a sailor fall, shaken from the rigging like a ripe fruit. He was screaming, calling for his mother. Two tentacles caught him in mid-air, crushing the sailor between the two of them like… like… like a ripe fruit. Plucked and crushed. Blood and bone and organs splattered across the deck, the man's screams cut off too, too soon. Like his life. Plucked and crushed like a fruit. Blood on the deck. Blood.
You're dead, the tentacles turned to the sound of Squirrel's scream. You're dead.
Fear made her lose her senses. Panicked, she forgot everything. She wanted was to live, but she even forgot that. The fear consumed everything. She threw aside the sword and ran, screaming, jumping and ducking and running over the deck, dodging the tentacles, screaming and screaming and screaming.
Everywhere, her uncle chased her, Dawn reached for her, lecherous drunkards and vindictive whores with knives and pokers and swords and broken bottles and clawed hands wanted to bring her down. Squirrel saw nothing but the faces of the things which haunted her nightmares.
But the nightmares were real this time; the snakes were sure to strike her eventually.
The world slowed - screams and shouts and words were drawn out and deep and inaudible, as though Squirrel were underwater. Every movement was slow, slow, agonisingly slow. The air was as thick as treacle - each step was a forced push. It was like being underwater. The rigging was still being torn, the masts were still being splintered, men were still dying, and the Kraken's arms still brushed and fingered across the whole ship, but all happened slowly, all impossibly slowly and in near silence. Squirrel shut her eyes, her screams not coming high and panicked as she knew they should but low and desolate, warped by this strange thick air.
You're. Dead.
A man leant his head against a door, head bowed and eyes closed, lit by a single lantern. "God Almighty," he said, his voice low. "Protect me as I go out today t'do what I have t'do, t' keep us alive. Keep me safe from the men who wish me and mine harm. Lord, please… continue to bestow your blessings upon me, though I, like all men, do not deserve 'em." He sighed, wiping his face with one hand. He seemed to be crying, though Squirrel could see no tears.
"Keep m'dear Rosie safe," the man's voice was lower now, and trembled. "Lord, I've prayed time and time again for some chance to leave this forsaken island, but it does not seem in Your plan for it t'be so… Lord, keep m' Rosie safe. She deserves so much better than this. Keep Rose and the children safe. Though I be such a sinner, though I be a man who does not deserve Your grace… please. Please keep Rose and the children safe.
"If," the man continued, somehow stronger, "If, Lord, it be in your plan for me t'die today, I am ready t'go. I make m'peace with you, Lord. I know I'm a sinner, I know… But I know too that you wouldn't ha' given me one of your own angels, just to make us part in the end." He smiled fondly, then sighed again. "I know you'll take me someday, Lord. If it be this day, then I'm ready. Just keep my family safe is all I ask. Please, Lord…" He sighed, and steeled himself.
"Lord, by the goodness of your grace, I'm ready to die. If needs be, Lord, I am ready to go t'you." The man sighed, pushing away from the door. "Amen." He put his hat back on his head, sighed, wiped at his eyes, and turned. His eyes widened as he saw Squirrel. "M'darlin' girl, what are you doin' up? Shouldn't you be a-bed? It's far too late for you to be out and about." He smiled, so loving, so kind… So familiar.
Squirrel opened her eyes.
The viscous air thinned, thinned, and suddenly the movements of crew and Kraken returned harshly and abruptly to normal speed. And such a speed - the Kraken's arms moved like the cracking of a whip, each one seemingly independent but each one moving with such control and collective purpose. Fingers of the same hand. A hand that would eventually crush the Pearl in its grip, and all along with it.
We stand no chance. We're dead. We're all dead.
"Lord!" she shouted her father's prayer, trying to calm herself, "By the goodness of Your grace I'm ready to die!" Her voice rose in a rough shriek as the tentacles found her, herded her to the deck, to the rails. "No! I'm not! I'm not ready to die! I'M NOT READY TO DIE!"
Squirrel tripped and fell. She rolled onto her back and stared up at the sky, her heart wild and her blood pounding in her ears. I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm dead. She felt someone grab her by the arms and drag her to the shelter of the stairs, through the broken doors of the captain's quarters. A tentacle slammed down on the deck where she'd been lying mere seconds ago. The timbers of the deck buckled with the blow. Squirrel screamed, little more than a feeble mew. She had no breath left to scream with.
"Are you alright?"
"Squirrel!"
Squirrel looked shakily up at Pintel and Ragetti - her unlikely saviours - then looked out over the deck. Will stood on the crates, his sword flying, screaming at the Kraken in defiance. The Kraken disdained him, for now. But soon… Soon, when all else was destroyed, the Kraken would find him. And he stood alone. Will needs help. Slowly, Squirrel felt the adrenaline in her veins tame, felt the fear turn, channelled to another purpose.
It's just an animal, Squirrel realised, getting to her feet. A really big one, but it's still just a squid - an animal. Nothing more.
"Your hand's bleeding!" Ragetti said, almost gibbering in panic. "You should wrap it up!" He started tearing at his sleeve.
"No time," Squirrel stopped him, her eyes locked on an abandoned sword, forgotten on the deck. "Will needs help." She adjusted her cloak, girding herself with courage enough to leave this shelter.
"We're stayin' put!" Pintel said, his normally tough exterior stripped away by terror. Ragetti clung to the axe he was holding, and nodded frantically in agreement.
Squirrel looked to him, eyes steady. "Then God be with you both. And also with me." She sprang out onto the deck, leaving them.
She danced and skipped and leapt her way through the tentacles and debris and bodies of dead men, until she reached the sword and held it tight in her right hand, her bleeding left hand closing loosely over the top. The Kraken's tentacles whipped past overhead, some coming close, too close, to Squirrel. But this time, she was ready.
"Come on, you slimy, blubbery, murdering bastard," she hissed, her senses electric for the next arm that swung her way, "You murdering, eight-legged, heartless, unfeeling, ink-spewing son-of-a-bitch. Come on!" She bellowed, roared, and charged.
The tentacle nearest her was focused on crushing another man to death. It didn't expect a woman to run screaming at it, a sword held in both hands. It didn't expect such a large chunk of its hide to be sliced open. It flailed in the air, spraying blood about. Squirrel grinned, ducking the spray, and turned to face her next opponent.
"Come on!" She slashed at the arm's dinner-plate-sized suckers. "Come on!"
Three tentacles converged on her, seeking her. Squirrel laughed - did she really sound so high-pitched and panicked? - and danced aside.
"I'll kill you all," she hissed backing slowly as the Kraken's arms pushed her to the sea. "All of you!" She screamed and slashed and hacked and sliced at the tentacles. She had her back to the rails now. There was nowhere else to go. "I'm not going to DIE LIKE THIS!" She screamed. "I'M NOT GOING TO LET YOU KILL ME!"
She was still screaming when the Kraken's arm caught her from behind, and crushed her in a cruel parody of an embrace.