The Wraith of Jack

Part One: "Not Alone"

****
The candles slowly faded out to leave the room only slightly illuminated by the moonlight. Within a matter of seconds, the temperature fell to an unsettling chilling degree.

Will Turner moved to lie on his back and opened his eyes. The surprising coldness reached to his bones. He stood from the bed and went to the window. No wind; not even the faintest hint of a breeze. An ominous feeling arose within him. His body trembled as cool beads of sweat formed on his skin. There was an unspeakable fear, a realization that something was amiss, and he shook his head from the thought of sensing a presence in the area with him. He turned around and a jolt of shock surged through his anatomy, creating a loud gasp to escape his opened mouth.

Jack Sparrow was standing by the doorway, observing Will intently. His gaze was stern, yet soft; it pierced Will so intensely that it troubled him greatly.

“Jack, what are you doing here?” the young man questioned and began to slowly walk toward the pirate.
Jack was unresponsive.
“Did you hear me?”
“Take care of her, William,” Jack whispered gently.
“What?” As he drew closer, Will noticed that he was becoming colder. “Take care of who?”
The rogue’s expression was entirely solemn. His eyes were tinged with red and were swollen as if he had been weeping.
“Jack, take care of who?”
“The Pearl.”
Will’s eyes widened and he found himself speechless for a brief moment. “The Pearl? That makes no sense.”
“I’m giving her to you, William.”
“Jack…..What’s wrong? What is it?”
“You always had the potential to be Captain.”

A tear fell down Jack’s cheek and he inhaled a rattling breath. As Will reached a comforting hand out to the pirate’s shoulder, Jack spoke quietly, dejectedly, “Goodbye, William.”

He faded like dissipating fog.

Will was rooted to the floor. His quaking hand groped about the spot where Jack had just been standing as if expecting to touch him.

“Jack? Jack.”

There was no answer; he did not believe there would be one anyway. He swallowed hard and looked quickly about the room. The Caribbean warm started to weave its way back into the darkened space, yet shivers still slid down his spine.

Unhurriedly, his feet shuffled toward the bed where he sat and simply stared at the wall across from him. Numerous times he glanced to the place where Jack had been, but there was nothing; not even a trace that someone had even been present.

“I must…...He could’ve been……It’s not possible,” he thought aloud.

The image of the pirate haunted him as he reluctantly gave in to sleep.

Part Two: "Disposed"

****
It was difficult to shake the event of the previous night from his mind as he made his way to the smithy. Will was a tad jumpy. Numerous times his eyes darted about the crowd in suspicion. Suddenly, the familiar cold enveloped him, causing him to turn completely about until he found the pirate a few feet away. He blinked to confirm that he was seeing Jack once again, but he stopped himself from going to him. A thought had entered his head – perhaps if he pretended that he did not notice Jack at all, the man would disappear. The sunken appearance on the pirate’s countenance, however, made him unable to follow through. Alas, the instant he moved, Jack vanished.

Will wiped his eyes and rubbed his cheeks. “This isn’t happening. I am not going mad.”

****
If he wished to discuss the absurd matters with someone, he placed his best bet on the man who had secluded himself from society. Surrounded by trees and various shrubs, the small house was nestled away at the top of a hill.

Will arrived at the place, knocked on the entrance, and waited patiently. After a brief period, the door opened to reveal James Norrington. He had retired from the Royal Fleet and hardly entered the town; he was content in not conversing with others unless necessary. He desired peace and solitude to serve as a remedy for the ache no one knew of.

His garb was as plain as Will’s; nothing like his formal Navy wear. The brown hair was no longer covered by a wig, but rather tied back loosely with a blue piece of cloth and a beard had begun to grow on his face.

“Quite a surprise to see you, Mr. Turner,” he stated blankly.
Will rolled his eyes. “Don’t you think we’re passed that?”
“A surprise to see you, Will,” James corrected himself.
“Thank you. I came because I have a matter to discuss with you.”

James stepped away as an invite for Will to come in. He shut the door and led Will to a seating area.

“What might it be?” he asked uninterestedly.
“We’ve seen a lot of things, James. But what I’ve seen lately has been one of the more disturbing ones. I wondered if you have experienced it too.”
James poured himself a shot of rum and offered one to Will as well as he said, “You’ve seen Jack.”
Will was flabbergasted. “How did you know?”
“I’ve seen him too. It’s a wraith.”
“A wraith?”
“A ghost of a person that is alive, yet is either in trouble, staring death in the eyes, or some other reason. Just ignore him and he’ll go away. That’s what I did. I haven’t been bothered since.”
“How can you ignore him if that could be the reason why he’s visiting us?” Will inquired, slightly testy.
James stared at him with little concern.
“I need your help, James. We can find him. You have better connections than I, which may be a good help.”
The former Commodore turned his head and sighed. It was a long moment before he replied, “Alright. I’m in. What’s your plan to find him?”
Will smiled. “A woman. She's like a goddess."

****
A grunt escaped Jack Sparrow’s cracked and swollen lips after being forcefully flung onto the cold, metal table. His head was swimming; there were no coherent thoughts, realizations, or anything of importance. He could only concentrate on the terrible suffering encompassing his entire body. Everything else was simply a vague mist of fog.

Leather straps secured his legs and arms tightly against the table. The final strap went across his forehead to keep his head from moving.

There was a dripping noise in the distance – off in the darkness of the barren room – that sounded like water. His mouth salivated at the idea; his throat burned. He could not remember the last time he had had a decent drink of the wonderful liquid.

More then a dozen candles were lit about the room, and his bruised eyes attempted to take in the scenery. It appeared to be a place for medical use. Surgeon’s instruments adorned the table next to him from what he could discern.

“What are we supposed to take?” a voice echoed in his ears.
“I believe the order was for…..”

Jack moaned faintly and coughed weakly. He was barely aware of the firm grip around the top of his right thumb. Despite that, he distinguished a thin, shiny object in one of the men’s hand. It was pressed against the base of his thumb and all at once, he let out a hoarse wail.

Back and forth. Back and forth. Like a savage saw. The tendons were severing. The bone was slowly breaking. He constantly cried out from the agony and writhed pitifully under the bonds. Droplets of warm water streaked from his anguished eyes.

“There,” a man finally said after the drawn-out amputation as he ripped the last bit of the connected tissue to present the single thumb to his accomplice.

Jack’s fiercely bleeding hand was sanitized and wrapped with a coarse cloth. He panted helplessly and quiet whimpers continuously came from his opened mouth. The soldiers strode to his left side and the strong grasp returned.

“Start at the knuckle this time.”
“Hmm……Could definitely be interesting.”
“Just cut the rest of it after the top’s gone.”

Jack was on the borderline of becoming entirely unconscious. He pleaded for it.

The blade sliced easily through the skin and instantly hit the knuckle. Sawing away, neither man seemed phased by the blood gushes or the horrible screams coming from the pirate’s raw throat.

“There’s the tip.”

An almost inaudible thump sounded when it hit the bottom of the small bowl that the right digit was in.

The remainder of the finger followed in a bloody mess, and his wound was cared for just as the other. Jack sobbed and shivered uncontrollably. Everything faded from black to white……black to white……

“….Drag him to the cell, I guess. He doesn’t look like he can make it on foot.”
“You think those will go next?”

The next thing Jack knew, he was on the stone floor being pulled away by his wrists.