Diane darted down the road, stopping her run occasionally to use the quick bursts of lightning to examine the path ahead. She used the crack of thunder and blasts of cannons to mask her steps. The howling wind was at her back now, pushing her with haste to reach her destination. Her heart pounded against her chest, the rhythmic beating crescendoing with each step she took. She had not a weapon in her hand; only the weathered leather binder tucked firmly between her fingers at her side.

She had avoided the eyes of one traveler already. The stagnant eyes of the stranger locked on the road, paying no attention to the tattered woman flying past him. She hoped he was the last she would along her journey. She bounded past the fields and sprinted towards the glowing windows of cottages until her eyes fell on her own. The sight brought hope to her heart, finding the building relatively unscathed from the chaos but a few yards away. Her hope spurred her along, urging her feet to quicken their pace.

Bang!

Diane reeled back from the explosion, her feet sliding to a stop as her curious eyes scoured ahead for the source. Her home violently rattled as the door flew open. A man whose face was unfamiliar stumbled out with a scream. The smokey barrel of a gun fell from his fingers as his hands rushed to his chest. The glint of metal shimmered in the moonlight as his hands gripped the blade protruding from his chest. Lightning shattered the sky as the man tugged and pulled on the sharp rod. With a crack of thunder, the rod pulled free, sending the man stumbling to a crumpled mess on the wet floor.

Diane’s eyes widened as the blade lowered from the light rays of the moon. Hope filled her face once more as a familiar grunt filled her ears. Mr. Woodes pushed himself out of the cottage and staggered out into the yard, his arms waving about him as he moved. He frowned in detest, forcing his legs to lock before finding his footing. He lifted the blade above the husk of the stranger, plunging his sword into the man’s heart with a relieved sigh.

“Mr. Woodes!”

Woodes lifted his gaze from the broken body, pulling the sword free as his head swiveled towards the call. “Diane?” His knees buckled before him, sending the man staggering back to the entrance of the cottage. His back fell to the open door as Diane rushed to him, his body slumping down the batten door as his feet slid from beneath him.

“Words can’t describe how relieved I am to see you. You honored your word, Mr. Woodes. You have protected my family. I can’t thank you enough.”

“You shouldn’t be here, Diane,” Woodes sighed, struggling to catch his breath. “It isn’t safe.”

“You took so long. I didn’t know what to expect. I fear you had fallen dead or abandoned me all together. Thankfully, you are not.” Diane turned her joyous gaze to the open door of the cottage. “Where is Peter and my father?” She asked, pushing past Woodes to peek her head inside the cottage.

“Don’t,” Woodes coughed, latching his hand firmly around Diane’s wrist and pulling her back.

“Don’t?” Diane frowned, tugging her wrist away. Woodes held firm, his grip tightening the more she struggled. “I would suspect they would like to see me. Why can’t I see them?”

“They’re gone,” Woodes groaned, pulling Diane away from the door and placing her in front of him. Once in place, he released his grip, slumping his head against the door and bringing his hand to his spleen.

“You’re hurt.” Diane’s frown disappeared from her face, replaced by the complexion of a concerned mother. She lowered herself to her knees, gently removing the man’s hand from the wound and examining the oozing hole.

“It’s nothing,” Woodes winced, slapping her hand away.

“Stop your squirming and let me see.” Diane pushed the man’s hand away before reaching into his pocket and pulling the linen handkerchief from within. She wrapped the bandage neatly atop the wound before allowing Woodes to hold it in place. “Were you able to fetch Dr. Livesey?”

“Yes. He is inside.”

“Good, I’ll fetch him. You stay put.”

“No,” Woodes urged, his free hand falling back on Diane’s wrist.

“Don’t be silly. You need to be tended to.”

“Don’t.” Woodes enforced his grip, his hardened stare urging the woman to stay put.

“Fine,” Diane said with a smirk. “I’ll call him. Dr. Livesey!”

“He won’t hear you.”

“And why not? He is but a few feet away. These walls aren’t that thick. Surely he isn’t that hard of hearing to hear my yells.”

“He’s dead.”

“Dead?” Diane’s jaw dropped. The rosy pink hue faded from her face, replaced with a ghostly pale complexion of horror. “How?”

“I arrived with the good doc but an hour before you. I urged your father to leave, but he is quite stubborn of a man. ‘This is my home,’ he proclaimed with the quick jabs of his cane. ‘No man, neither alive nor dead, will force me from it.’

“We debated long and hard to change his mind. It wasn’t until I assured him you were waiting for them at my estate that he reluctantly agreed. I left your father with Livesey in the parlor to fetch your brother. The boy was tucked in bed, fast asleep. I suppose the boy is a hard sleeper, for neither the raging cannon fire nor my stirring him would awake him from his slumber. I took the boy in my arms, having already decided to carry him to the horse to save time. That is when our villainous friend there arrived.

“Pirate or not, I do not know. But the man had one motive, and a sick one at that. He burst into the home, flailing his blade about, screaming for the pair of men to empty their pockets. Your father was the first to react, being the closest to the door. He matched the man’s flailing with that of his cane, howling back at him that there was nothing for the man in that home but trouble.

“Whether annoyed by your father’s commands or lusting for blood, I can’t say. But when I arrived in the room, the villain struck your father with the sting of his blade. Livesey, horrified by the scene, leapt to your father’s aid, catching the man as he tumbled back. Before I could react, the man swung at the doctor, catching poor in his leg.

“I slid the dozing child onto the table as the doctor crumpled from the blow. Livesey was pinned beneath your father, and I doubted he would be of much help. So I drew my pistol and sprung forward. The stranger was neither amused nor intimidated by my display. He turned swiftly towards me, nicking my hand with his blade before the hammer was pulled.

“The weapon fell to the floor, clattering far from my reach. I bit back the pain and reached for my sword. The man didn’t hesitate to continue his attack. He flipped the blade over and plunged it my way, forcing me to abandon my task. I jolted back and dipped to the side.

“The stranger pressed on, swinging and flailing about to catch me. It wasn’t until I doubled over my footing that I made my first mistake. I tumbled backwards as he caught me off balance, falling into the old clock behind me. The clock rang hard and the glass shattered beneath me. It was then that the villain rammed me through.

“The sting of a thousand swarming wasps biting my flesh brought a howl from my lips. The scream brought nothing but joy to the stranger’s lips. His eyes beamed with delight as he tugged the blade free. With a snicker, he raised his sword once more, bringing its sharp tongue to my neck.

“Unbeknownst to me, Livesey had pulled himself free and had managed to procure the iron poker from the brick mantle, heating the metal to a fine orange glow as the fight went on. He slinked behind the villain as the evil blade drew near me. The largest grin I have ever seen the old doc make covered his mug as he raised his arm. He popped the rod beneath the stranger’s legs, lifting the smoldering poker higher than it should.

“Smoke fluttered from the villain’s trousers as his legs began their dance. His sword clattered to his floor as his hands flew to his crotch. He slapped the flames away from his burning britches, beating furiously at the cloth as his knees bounced high in a festive jig.

“The villain’s face turned firm as the embers died away. He turned to Livesey with a heated rage. The good doc staggered back, uncertain of how to defend himself. The stranger struck the doctor with the back of his fist, sending Livesey into a ball on the floor. It was then that his evil hands fell on the heated rod. He pried the poker free, raising the glowing tip to the good doc’s mouth.

“It was then that my fingers found the hilt of my sword. With a loud shink, the blade pulled free. I advanced towards the monster as his paw jammed the poker forward. Livesey screamed the most gruesome howl as a cloud of white smoke flew from his sizzling tongue. Without a moment to spare, I brought the sword forward. The villain ducked as the blade flew over his scalp. He grimaced in detest, muttering a foul string of obscurities before jamming the searing rod through the doc’s throat and turning to face me.

“His fingers journeyed to his belt, plucking a glittering flint from within. He raised the elegant weapon and pulled back the hammer. I swung my sword once more, the arcing blade colliding with the pistol’s barrel. His hand flew hard, but his grip was tight. His finger had started its crawl, the trigger inching backwards. The sights of the flint aligned towards the table as the hammer fell forward.

“Smoke filled the room as I pushed myself forward. I held my blade firm as I tackled the evil fellow. He stumbled back to the door, bursting into the yard, as my blade pierced his chest.”

“It can’t be!” Diane screamed, her fists pummeling Mr. Woodes’ heaving chests. “I don’t believe you.”

“I did everything I could, Diane,” Woodes wheezed, lifting his hand from his wound to block the flailing fists. “I am terribly sorry. But they are gone, Diane. There is no changing that.”