Nowhere Ch. 12 - The Attack

Squatting on the bank of the river, Archie offered one word of description for the wooden ship that was bearing down upon the Town of Grantham, “Trireme.” Sheriff Dance paid no attention to Archie. His eyes were locked on an imposing figure at the rail, who was looking down on the town and the people frolicking in the water. Even at a distance Dance could see that this man was not smiling. In the shallows, Mack stared at the ship in wonder. On the bank, his sister turned a cartwheel in the mud. The figure on the deck of the ship raised his hand and uttered a guttural command. The oars closest to the shore stopped moving and the boat turned in the wide river and headed for the shore. The townspeople scrambled and stumbled back up the muddy bank, retreating before the ship. The hollow drumbeat stopped and the prow of the ship came to rest on the mud with the craft stopped 30 yards offshore. The imposing figure at the rail made a speech that Dance could not understand. But as the man gnashed out the words, he could see the white teeth flashing amid the man’s thick, black beard. This man, surely the Captain of this vessel, finished his speech by raising his open hand and making a downward motion in conjunction with his last word. Which sounded like “Klahpheem!” When no one on the bank moved, the Captain raised his hand and repeated this command, This time Penelope shouted back, “Klahpheem!” Embarrassed, Mack said, “Hush up.” Archie said, “We don’t understand you!” The Captain turn his head sharply with a bird-like motion and fixed Archie with his gaze. He smiled and then barked another command, “Ekidst!” Archers filled the rails around him. Archie began shouting. First in one language and then another. But he got no response from the ship. The townspeople stared on in confusion and disbelief. *Don't you do it*, thought Dance as he cocked his rifle and brought it to his shoulder. In desperation, Archie asked, “You don’t think they’re going to?” "Yeahp," said Dance. “Well, don’t provoke them!” “I think we’re past that.” “What should I do?" asked Archie. "You could try running,” said Dance. On deck the Captain let his arm fall. Dance fired before the first arrow was released. As the Winchester roared, the Captain fell back onto the deck almost in time with the dropping of his own arm. Further down the bank, Speedy Pete drew slow and opened fire with his pistol. At that range, even a good shot would have a hard time hitting anything with a pistol. And Pete wasn’t a good shot. Archie looked up at the cloud of arrows, considered the futility of running, then muttered, “Never a phalanx when you need one.” The townspeople screamed and ran, some slipping in the mud of the river bank. But there was no outrunning the arrows. Penelope, oblivious as she always was, prepared to turn another cartwheel on the bank. Mack tried to run to protect his sister, but the mud sucked at his feet, and he stumbled, crawling on his hands and knees through the water. As the arrows flew, Dance’s rifle boomed out again and again. And Archers fell at the rail like targets in a shooting gallery. He caught one of them low in the belly, and the archer slumped forward and fell into the slow-moving river. Instead of running, Archie straightened his waistcoat and stood tall, ready to receive fire as bravely as any soldier in any line. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement. There was the little blond girl, tresses flying wildly, throwing herself into a cartwheel. Everything slowed. The arrows flew. The girl turned. A noble fear grew in Archie and he started to run towards the girl. She spun upright, landing on her feet again, holding her arms up in triumph. An arrow on a high trajectory punched through the left side of her chest, knocking her from her feet. Archie slogged through the impossible mud and came to the girl’s aid. The arrow had gone right through and pinned her to the ground. Her mouth opened and closed as if she was trying to scream, but the pain made it impossible. She gasped infinitesimally small breaths as tears rolled down her cheeks. She grabbed the shaft of the arrow that protruded from her chest and stared down at it. Archie whispered that it would be all right and that she should be brave, that she should not look at it. She called out for her mother in a voice that was barely a whisper. Mack was at her side. He said, “Is she okay?” Archie looked up at the boy’s face and had to look away before he could say, “No. Get a doctor.” Mack hovered above his sister, unable to move. Archie said, very gently, “Do you love your sister?” Mack nodded as tears streamed down his face. “Then run.” Dance kept firing until his rifle was empty. The rail of the ship was clear, and the rowers had started backing water. Dance realized that many of the townspeople were now firing from the bank. He even saw a gambler, giving the attackers both barrels of his tiny derringer. It wasn’t worth a damn, but he grinned at the man’s spirit. As the ship made speed upriver, he saw the bearded face of the Captain appear at the rail, holding a cloth to the right side of his head. Dance brandished his rifle above his head, sideways, showing it to the man and thought, I’ll see you again, you son-of-a-b***h. And next time I won’t miss. He turned back to the townspeople to see how badly they had fared and then saw that Penelope had been shot. *God, not the child. * As Archie held Penelope in his arms, Her head lolled backwards and she drifted into unconsciousness. Archie said, "No, no, dear girl, you mustn't go to sleep. You mustn't." She tried to speak but was unable to move enough air through her lungs to manage it. Then she was asleep. As Archie tried to revive her he saw that her lips were blue. This was a terrible sign and he was terrified by what it might mean. "Where is the damn doctor!" He yelled. "He only went to bed a couple hours ago,” said one of the townspeople, waving his empty pistol back towards the town, a staggeringly fine example of a three–day drunk. Archie turned Penelope over and found the tip of the arrowhead poking through the back of her blood-soaked dress. The tip was steel and had cruel, flaring barbs. It was impossible to think of yanking such an arrow back out the way it had gone in. Archie wracked his brain. Surely there was something he could do to prevent this little girl from dying in his arms. Before he was conscious of thinking it, he heard his voice saying, “Knife! does anyone have a knife?" He was surprised to hear that he sounded like he knew what he was doing. A rough-looking man slid a Bowie knife from his belt sheath and handed it to Archie without a word. He heard a woman saying, “Don't you cut her!" Archie ignored her and took a notch out of the arrow shaft just beneath the fletching. He worked as gently as he could, trying not to move the shaft in the wound. When he had cut a significant notch in the shaft he lay the knife on the ground and snapped the fletching off the arrow. Then he turned the girl sideways on his hip and pulled the arrow completely through her. Penelope's eyes fluttered and she came back to consciousness. Archie said, “There now. Isn't that better?” She coughed blood on his suit and started screaming. As she convulsed each new movement brought new pain and the more Archie tried to calm her, the more she was overcome by terror. In desperation, Archie looked around for a doctor or the girl’s mother. Even that vile-tempered nurse of Jean Dumont’s would have been a welcome sight. But all he saw was the snake oil salesman from the saloon. He stood holding a bottle of his ridiculous "medicine" in his hand, opening and closing his mouth, trying to work up the courage to give his sales pitch. What a loathsome fiend thought Archie. And just look at him, he knew it. He dare not give his "remedy" for the certainty that it would be proved fake on the spot. As Dr. Krupp moved to put the bottle back in his jacket pocket one of the gullible miners in the crowd cried out, “H… This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit patrickemclean.substack.com