Woman Overboard

Chapter 1 : Help (3)

Alessandra

August 21st, 1820

(11:21 AM)

Battle seemed ubiquitous. It bled through every corner of the ship, invaded every inch of Aless's mind until blood and screams became her world. She shot through The Elizabeth like a misfired bullet, flying about in a trance-like state, hardly seeing the bloody trail she left behind her.

"Muscle memory", Daniel liked to call it. He said that sometimes in battle, his body took over for him. He could no longer feel anything but the sword in his hand and the ground beneath his feet. Everything else faded away, his movements becoming unhindered and smooth as his body took over.

Either this "muscle memory" had decided to take her for a spin, or Daniel's ghost had decided to guide her through the maze of guns, bodies, and blades.

She favored her pistol today, her hands clamped around its metal hips as its lethal eyes released their hatred on unsuspecting fools.

Aless felt as though she had awoken from a deep sleep, the fog surrounding her body falling away. She became sharp, articulate, skilled, not at all the reluctant, grief-stricken woman she had fallen asleep as last night. In the thick of the fight, Daniel became a second thought, like the sound of swords scratching behind her or the scent of blood in her nose. They were there, but she ran away, aloof to them.

Another man fell, his shocked groan of pain fueling Aless's next move. She leaped away from him, dropping into another skirmish, this one between Braiden and three unfamiliar men. Her gun spat three sharp words, each sailing with deadly precision. Before Braiden could lower his sword, before the men could scream, before the bullets could even land, she was gone.

Adrenaline pumped through her veins like the buzz of alcohol, launching her into even the most unlikely battles. On the poop deck, Edward and Willie struggled under the swords of four Hampshire men. Without a second thought, she sprang toward them, the tails of her coat following like a shout behind a turned back. Then, there was one.

"Mother?"

Alessandra whipped around, pistol still pointed outwards, to find Danielle shivering in fright, trapped between two armed men.

Aless's mouth fell open with shock. Her head swirled, the past five minutes catching up. Blood, blood, bone, and the stink of death, seeping into the floorboards of Daniel's precious Elizabeth. "No," she shouted. "You dirty scoundrels!" Her heart thrummed wildly with panic. "You wouldn't dare hurt a child, would you? You aren't that low?"

Thwack! A pistol struck Danielle's head, prompting a sharp cry from Aless. She fell forward, lunging for her daughter, but one man caught her, shoving her back. "Yea I would," he answered. "An' don' ye doubt it! Now gimme the valu'bles!"

She wrestled away from his grip, forcing the last of her energy to carry her across what seemed to be an ocean (a meter, at most), into Danielle's frail arms. Her daughter wept, hot tears landing in Alessandra's hair. Landing a firm heel in the first man's face, she hugged her daughter with such ferocity that the girl let out a little squeak of surprise.

"Shh," Aless whispered, springing to her feet with her daughter's bird-like body draped over her shoulder. She held the girl around the waist, feeling sick with dread as she shoved through the attackers. The magic had left her -- Daniel's guidance escaped. Once more, she was a frightened young woman, clinging to the one thing she still cared about for dear life.

Danielle's cries fluctuated with the bumps of Aless's footsteps, her voice warbling like a singing old woman's. She swung the girl down from her shoulder, cradling her like a baby. Danielle buried her face in her mother's breast, tears quickly soaking her shirt.