Sirens | An AMC'S Turn: Washington's Spies Fan Fiction

Seven

Author's Note: Hi friends! Here is a new chapter of Sirens. Sorry it is a bit short. I have loved writing this story lately! Can't wait to show y'all what happens next! 

Dear Ben,

As you have most likely heard, tragedy has struck the Alcott family. On Wednesday, we heard news of the death of Elijah Alcott and Liza's four brothers: James, Charles, Nathaniel, and Jonathan. Our dear Liza has not fared well. I'm afraid that with each passing day, she is becoming less and less herself. She barely eats, has not slept in a week, and refuses to leave her room. I'm afraid for her spirit, Ben. She is a quiet one but there is something deep and dark behind her silence. If you are able, please write to her. Encourage her and urge her to think of the cause they left behind. And if you can, please visit. I think it would do our Liza much good to see you.

Your friend,

Abe

Ben could not contain his grief. He was saddened at the image of the Alcott boys lying dead in a field somewhere, their bodies the only proof of the sacrifice they made for their country. They had been like brothers to him. Like their sister, the Alcott boys were absolutely brilliant and incredibly kind. Elijah Alcott raised his children to take the shirt off their back if someone was in need and to fight for what they believed in with every fiber of their being. He could remember the many debates the Alcott boys would get into as children. Nathaniel would always pick fights if his position lost but even then, his heart was pure.

And Ben felt his heart throb for sweet, sweet Liza. He didn't know what he'd do with himself should something happen to her. He would not forgive himself. So, with swollen eyes and a heavy heart, Ben packed a bag of food stuffs. It would only take a day to get to Setauket. Just as Ben stuffed one last apple into his saddle bag, Caleb came crashing through his tent, the smell of alcohol following him.

"Benny Boy!!" He slurred. "Have yew ever wondered if the Good Lord hates His children so much that He just kills 'em all?"

Ben grabbed the bottle out of Caleb's hands and allowed his drunk friend to sob into his shoulder. Caleb was especially close to Liza's father and brothers. Elijah Alcott served as a surrogate father and point of respite for the young Caleb. Ben hated seeing people he loved in pain, and he knew unequivocally that Caleb would drink himself to death if Ben would allow.

"Okay, Caleb. I need you to watch over the camp while I'm gone."

The young courier wiped the tears from his eyes and sucked down the last bit of ale from the bottle. "Yessir," he mumbled as he fake saluted. Ben took it as his chance to leave.

"Please don't drink yourself to death. This war is far from over yet."

Ben grabbed his horse and rode out of camp, making sure that his officers were well-distracted and wouldn't question where he was going. As his horse steadily cantered through the New Jersey woods, he practiced what he'd say to Liza once he saw her. Would he go blank as normal? Would he stutter? He just hoped that whatever he said, she knew how much he cared for her; that every word would be a healing balm. He loved Liza Alcott more than anything in this world, and he'd be damned if she never got to know it.

—

"Miss Liza, you gotta eat somethin'," Aberdeen chided, shoving a plate of meat and potatoes in Liza's direction. She pushed it away and turned over in bed. Every part of her body hurt from bed sores. Her back was covered in them because she had refused to get up in weeks. Liza knew it was unhealthy. She knew she was allowing herself to waste away. Part of her yearned to run out to the sea and play or read a book in the grass. But her mind was slow as fog and every breath felt like a chore. So, she stayed exactly where she was, not moving and only speaking if she absolutely had to. It was a pathetic existence, and her veins burned in anger over it all.

Before Liza's family was brutally murdered by the British, she preferred compassion over revenge. She hated the war because it brought death upon our young country. She believed in the Cause and in the men that fought for it, but she never viewed violence as a solution. But after three weeks of agonizing pain and grief, Liza understood why humans go to war. It is to rid themselves of the anger that threatens to chain them to their beds; it is to ensure that the pain they feel will never be felt by those they love. And this is why she decided she would fight. And not through clandestine notes and fancy balls and Shakespeare, but with a musket and gunpowder and pure, unadulterated anger.

If her last cry was a battle cry, then so be it.

—

Liza was gone. Abe had arrived at Whitehall when Aberdeen came running outside, her eyes swollen and hands red. She had looked for Liza everywhere, she said. Abe's father had sent men out. No one knew where she went. Abe's heart could not handle much else. He felt his chest ache.

"Aberdeen, fetch me a horse."

-

Liza willed her clumsy feet to stop crunching the leaves beneath them. In the dead of night, even a small crackle could reveal her to the enemy and if she planned on fighting, she could not be revealed so soon. She carefully placed one foot in front of the other and slung her musket across her shoulders and let it hang down her back. It thumped against her shoulder blades and every movement sent ripples of pain down her spine. With each breath, Liza whispered curses into the early September air. She had never been one for cursing but something deep within Liza had changed and she no longer was the innocent girl everyone knew her to be.

The Connecticut landscape confused Liza. She was only familiar with the southern scape of Virginia and the beachy hills of Setauket. Farm land rolled for miles and miles and only three miles in, Liza found herself unable to continue. She found a secluded spot in the woods and sat herself down, using her hands to support her aching back. Everything felt as if it were on fire and Liza felt a pang of regret. She was not well enough to travel to camp, let alone fight. Who did she think she was? Definitely not a soldier and definitely not as brave as she believed herself to be.

After an hour's rest and a good self-talking to, Liza lifted herself up off of the ground and walked five more miles to the nearest Continental camp. She had disguised herself in a uniform she found on the side of the road. It looked ridiculous on her emaciated frame, but at least she would not be discovered to be a woman. Her hair was a perfect length to be hidden under a helmet and her youthful face, with enough dirt, could be mistaken as a young man's. An older dragoon led Liza to the captain and after an hour-long interrogation, the captain agreed to allow "Lawrence Alcott" to fight with his regiment.

Later that night, Liza laid on her cot. The straw-filled sack that served as a mattress was itchy and uncomfortable under her sore back, but she was thankful to be resting. It had not been an easy week since departing Setauket and she was very aware that in three days time, she would be on the battlefield, where no rest would be had.

-

Liza stood knee-deep in a muddy Connecticut field. Her musket was cocked on one shoulder and in her boot, she hid a knife in case the bayonet was not enough. Cannon fire blasted her eardrums and men shot each other left and right. She was utterly frightened. But when a Red Coat came towards her, she shut her eyes and shot. With each mark, she felt her anger grow stronger and stronger. And by the time the battle finished, Liza was numb and broken, more so than before. But for the first time in her life, she owned every decision and action she took. And despite the hardness growing in her chest, she felt wildly free.