The Death of William Hollow

It was the wash of sound that stirred the man awake, the metal ringing of rain hitting the tin roof above him and the slow rumble of thunder that passed through the concrete walls. The smell came second, the comforting scent of vanilla from a cigarette, grounding the man to reality and pulling him out of his dazed stupor. A tight pain throbbed at his knees, a cramp from being in the same position for a few hours.

He moved his hands to wipe the sleep away from his eyes only to find that they stopped short behind his back, he could hear the metal clinking as he tried to pry his hands away from their binds. The man shifted in his seat and realised quickly that his ankles were bound to the legs of the chair; this did not surprise him as much as it would have an average person, but then again the man had been expecting something like this to happen for some time.

In fact, the man seemed quite relaxed, given the situation. He was unperturbed by the near complete darkness that surrounded him and calmly watched the only light in the room glow a burning orange, a cigarette. He watched as it moved down and was squashed against the darkness. He listened carefully as the person in front of him shifted in the dark; a slight metallic rattling and the soft creak of leather.

An oil lamp flooded the room in a golden haze of light, blinding the man temporarily as he instinctively tried to move his hands to rub at his eyes, but yet again only managed to struggle uselessly. He listened to the clacking sound of wooden soles hitting the concrete floor. He blinked a few times as his vision adjusted to the light, before realising that he was staring at a crotch.

He chuckled, it was a woman – that much was obviously clear – but it was the belt that hung loosely against the woman’s hips, which held much more significance. Silver had been smelted into an eight pointed star, the top point forming the crown of England, it was a rather boring belt, but to anyone who recognised it – and everyone did – then the belt held a world of power and significance.

His smile widened as he looked up at the tall woman in front of him, she did not have a typical womanly figure, and in fact she more closely resembled a pole. She wore tight fitting clothes, brown trousers that hugged her toned legs and a basic long sleeved shirt that was tucked in. Her blonde hair was cut boyishly short, and the man thought that she would have been pretty if not for the three long silver scars that ran down the left side of her face. They made her left eye permanently droop down at the corner.

“Catherine Marie Bell,” he drawled grinning at the flash of anger in the woman’s eyes, “No, now it’s Commissioner Bell, well done on the new job title,” he nodded towards her belt.

Catherine remained silent, and instead just opted to stare at him blankly as she scratched at her right shoulder – the metallic rattling from earlier sounding again - before taking out a cigarette and quickly lighting it up.

Catherine Bell stared at the man in front of her, she remembered the first time she saw him ten years ago, surprised by how young he was, just hitting the age of twenty three. He had changed since then, his dark brown curls were now slicked back, his pale skin now had a little tan and his once bright and youthful eyes were now darkened by sleepless nights. He still had the same cocky grin though, and his clothes had become grossly extravagant, a reminder to all of his reputation and status.

“You’ve gotten lazy over the last five years, William,” Catherine finally spoke as she relaxed against the table, “it wasn’t nearly as hard to catch you as it was last time.”

William snorted in derision, “what makes you think I was running away? But, out of curiosity, how did you find me?”

Exhaling through her nose she shifted on her feet and scratched her right arm with the fingers that weren’t wrapped around the cigarette.

“We followed rumours, especially about the one where you were chasing a small Chinese girl across the Mediterranean. Is she your girlfriend?” Catherine laughed a little at the last part, but she watched carefully as William’s smile disappeared completely. He was stoned faced now, she had touched a nerve.

“How’s the arm?” William asked, and before he could even crack a smile he crashed to the ground.

William was too shocked to feel the pain, instead his mouth gaped open like a fish as he tried to breathe in a lungful of air. A ringing sound deafened him and his vision blurred making his stomach churn as the world spun and doubled. After a few moments he felt himself being picked up by the chair and seated back in an upright position. Once the world stopped spinning, William took a gander at the woman in front of him. She was massaging her right shoulder, before peeling off her right glove to carefully examine the hand that backhanded him across the face.

The hand was made of greyish steel, polished enough that William could see himself reflected on Catherine’s wrist, its fingers were long and slender, matching Catherine’s left hand perfectly. He watched - with a sort of morbid fascination – as Catherine clenched her fingers into a fist, the metal moving as smoothly as if she had been born with it. He could hear the whisper of a whizzing sound coming from the hand as she clenched her fingers.

He sat back against the chair as Catherine pulled the glove back on, and grimaced as he finally noticed the saltiness of his own blood. The shock was starting to wear off; the low heat that radiated off the left side of his cheek was being replaced by a horrible stinging sensation. He ran his tongue along his teeth and sighed as he felt a gaping hole, realising that he had swallowed his tooth.

“I thought I’d be in a prison cell by now, waiting for a trial,” he mused.

Twisting her torso, Catherine leaned across the table and grabbed a long metal box. It was thick, about the width of his thumb, and on one of the sides of the box were three buttons.

“Do you know what this is?” she asked, a little too condescendingly for William’s taste, but he shook his head in reply anyway.

“It is a Sound Recorder, a genius piece of work. You take a small disc like this one,” she held up a small black vinyl, “and you place it inside the box like so.” She pushed a small button and one half of the box popped open slightly allowing her to slip the vinyl inside before pushing the lid back down with a snap, “You can record any sound you want, it makes it quite handy for us when criminals wish to confess their crimes.”

“You want me to confess my crimes?” William snorted.

“In a way… You’re not going to get out of this one like you did last time William. You’re going to die by the end of the day and once you’re dead people will begin to forget you. Historians will write only a version of you, they will write only a fraction of your escapades.”

William licked his lips as he shifted in his seat, quirking a smile as he watched Catherine push a button on the sound recorder and place it carefully on the desk.

“So, what do you want me to tell you?” He asked, “How I came to be a pirate? Did I really consort with African witch doctors? Or do you want to know if I really can control the Kraken?” He curled his lips smugly and relaxed against the chair.

William had always loved the rumours and the reputation that followed him, even if they were unfounded and were told to young boys who fantasised about running away to be a great pirate. The stories of him were warnings, like when a mother tells naughty children that the bogey man will come after them in the dark.

Catherine was quick on her feet, she tightly held on to William's white silk shirt, gripping it around her metal hand, her face was close enough that he could smell cigarettes in her breath and see the different shades of green in her eyes.

“Listen here you pathetic shit-eating worm,” she hissed as she pulled William closer towards her, “I have been wasting my life chasing you for ten years, I lost an arm because of you and I nearly lost an eye trying to get information on your whereabouts. Ten years and I have finally caught you, like I promised you I would. ” William could hear his shirt rip underneath the strain of Catherine’s metal hand.

“I have listened to the stories of your evil doings for ten years, William. I know the difference between rumours and fact. I’ve seen what happens to a man when you capture his daughter and send her limbs through the mail, no word asking for ransom. I’ve seen men and women who have the unfortunate business of crossing paths with you; I have heard their story of how you beheaded their newborn because it was crying too loudly…. Have you ever done anything in your pathetic godforsaken life that was good? Have you ever been in love? Ever had friends?”

Catherine was on the verge of tears, anger pulsated through her body and William could feel it. He chuckled softly, nodding “I saved a girl once,” he stated “worst decision I ever made.” Catherine stepped back and unravelled her hand away from William, her eyebrows knitted in scepticism and confusion.

William smiled, showing his pearly white teeth and leaned back against the chair stretching a bit before relaxing into his seat.

“When I was twenty three I remember everything being a little brighter than it is nowadays. I remember London without that ever present black fog hanging over the city and when most of the buildings were just made from stone. I remember so vividly that the sun was warmer than usual on the day that I stepped out of that court as a free man, escaping execution because every good man is willing to risk his life and career for the promise of gold.

I will not bore you on with the trivialities of what happened in the six months after I evaded my execution. I wanted to get away from England. So nothing happened for the months that we sailed from England to China. We only committed a few murders and a raid on a passing merchant ship. However, once we made it to the docks of Qingdao, that’s when the story really starts… ”

***

If you have never been to China then I highly recommend it, in fact I have been there so many times before that I am fluent in the language. The city of Qingdao is beautiful and chaotic. If you are in the heart of the city, near the docks then you will see, taste and smell things that you have never experienced. If you walk just ten minutes away from the city, you will be met by ancient stone temples that have been untouched by time. But the greatest aspect of China and of Qingdao is that they have never seen me, or rather they have heard of the crimes that I have committed but not know that I have committed them. It is quite perfect.

It was the second day of being in Qingdao; the sky was a little overcast making the waters at the docks choppy and dark. I had spent the last few hours being with girls that catered to my every need, much to the disdain and complaint of Malachi. But I deserved a bit of pampering, I did after all escape from possible death.

“You’re disgusting; most of those girls are only sixteen,” Malachi chastised. I laughed and reminded him that the age gap between me and the courtesans was only 12 years.

Malachi – perhaps my only friend – was a giant. He was over seven feet tall, had hands that could easily wrap around a man’s head; arms that were as thick as a small tree trunk and he was easily recognised by his bushy red eyebrows. Because of his intimidating stature it made sense to have him around.

Malachi, like a puppy, walked beside me as we twisted our way through the crowds. We were walking to kill time before we could get dinner at one of the many little restaurants in the city. The docks were filled with large navy ships, all of them ready to leave at a moment’s notice, sailors were preparing their ships for boarding and captains were shouting orders. The mood, however, changed quite suddenly when a man on one of the ships masts shouted something and pointed toward the horizon. It was a Chinese fighting ship that sailed and skirted a few miles from the docks, but it no longer belonged to their Navy; it had been stolen by a man named Jiao Hu. I do not know much about him, only that the Chinese navy had been trying to capture him for months now.

If I have to say anything about the Chinese that surprised me was that they have a particularly interesting thing in common with the English, both people like seeing pirates being executed. It’s a quality pastime in both countries, so it was no surprise to me when a wall of people suddenly ran to the edge of the docks.

Malachi and I stood at the back of the floating pier; we were both tall enough to see above the hundreds of heads that were in front of us. I watched for a few minutes as the Chinese navy fleet quickly pursued Jiao Hu, but he was quick and used canons very readily. The air started to smell like gunpowder, fire and ash, a clear sign that Jiao Hu had hit one of his pursuers.

It was then that I heard a blood curdling scream, one that I have gotten to know quite well over the years that I have been practicing the art of torture. It was a scream that only came from the real fear of death and it was coming from underneath my feet….



***

William paused as he noticed the silence that enveloped around him, the rain and thunder had stopped finally. He watched carefully, with a hint of a smile, as Catherine sighed and took out a short blade from inside of her boot and knelt down in front of him.

“Don’t try anything,” Catherine threatened as she started to cut away the rope at William’s ankles. He grinned, but nodded silently in agreement.

William stretched his legs and sighed in comfort as he relished in the ability to relieve the pain that held his knees. He waited patiently as Catherine released the metal bindings away from the chair; his hands, nonetheless, were still tied behind his back. She was silent as she motioned for him to get up, and gestured towards a wooden door that was barely visible from within the shadows that the light of the oil lamp did not touch. He hobbled slowly towards the door; his knees still aching as Catherine quickly walked passed him, she was smug as she opened the door for him, and gestured for him to step outside first.

His breath condensed in a milky white cloud, the sun did nothing to provide warmth, his black boots squelched in mud and the sky above was nothing but a large grey cloud. The forest in front of him was dead, nothing but white leafless skeletons that held little memory of the autumn and spring. There were no sounds of other life, just the silence of winter.

She softly jabbed him in the back with her blade, forcing him to walk deeper into the forest and away from the tiny cottage that he had been seated in just minutes before. His boots picked up mud as he trudged through the wet and decaying leaves on the ground; his ears filled with the sound of his own heart beating hard against his chest.

“To this day I have wondered why I saved her, why I got Malachi to rip the pier apart and lift a sixteen year old away from her watery death… That was the only time I have ever saved another’s life,” William chuckled humourlessly, “Ironic, is it not? The only time I have ever done anything good in my life and it leads to my death.” William was breathing heavily, either from years of smoking or the physical exertion of walking after hours of sitting.

“Stop here,” Catherine said firmly as she walked around William to stand in front of him. She held a pistol by her side casually, her hands did not shake and her eyes were unemotional. She had no trouble killing someone, especially William.

He felt like throwing up, he wanted to pass out and he wanted to run. But his body shook relentlessly and his feet made no motion to move, even though he desperately wanted to. His chest tightened in pain.

“Do you have any last words?” Catherine asked formally as she cocked the gun, readying it to fire.

“That girl that I was chasing in the Mediterranean, the one that I saved… Watch out for her, she’s going to be more trouble than I ever was.” William grinned, but it was weak and it wavered.

“Noted,” Catherine nodded as she lifted her pistol.

William stared down at the gun and quietly he started to laugh as tears began to stream down his face. This was it. William closed his eyes, his hands still shook and his heart thundered against his chest so much that he felt as if it were going to explode.

A sharp crack echoed through the forest.