Mei saw Amos hurl the lantern down and, fear clutching her heart, launched herself from the window opening before she had a chance to mourn his loss or appreciate his sacrifice. 

The explosion was so powerful that the rush of air and flame jetting through the window behind her flipped her over in midair. Upside down, she saw the blast separate the very stones making up the backside of the mill. For a brief moment, they lifted and allowed firelight through all the cracks. A vast plume of yellow and orange flames blew the top off of the mill and engulfed everything as it rose up into the night sky, illuminating the entire area much as the volcano had on St. Vincent. 

Mei helplessly tumbled down through the air, a prisoner of gravity. She heard a cry of alarm and then felt herself slam mostly into the sugarcane refuse except for one leg that hit the top of the wagon box. Before she could shriek in pain, she bounced out of the wagon, pinwheeled, and landed square on her back on the ground, causing all the air to whoosh out of her lungs. 

She lay there in a daze of stars, struggling for breath under the fireball above her. Her entire body hurt.

“Grab her!”

“Careful! She might have damaged her spine!”

It was unclear who was speaking, but she felt her body dragged under the wagon while bits of stone and wood cascaded down from the sky. From the corner of her vision she saw that while most of the conical mill remained, the factory side had been vaporized, leaving only the floor and mangled equipment and vats, the walls and roof utterly gone.

“Mei! Mei, are you ok?”

She blinked and fought to breath and regain her senses. She saw Armand’s face above hers. “I’m ok. Give me a minute.”

“We don’t have a minute,” Lance whispered. 

She became aware of shouting and a troupe of boots ran past, pounding the dirt. 

A commanding voice rang out. “Find whoever’s on duty here! Private Rattle, haul your ass into town and find Leftenant Davies.”

“Surely he would have heard the explosion and come running on his own, sir.”

“Depends how far into his cups and whores he is. Get moving!”

“Aye, sergeant!”

The voices passed. 

Lance let out a breath. “I can’t believe they didn’t see us. We have to go. Now!”

Armand and Lia pulled Mei to her feet and she stumbled along between them, her arms over their shoulders as they hurried in Lance’s wake. He led them across the work yard and into the stables, where several horses knocked about in their stalls in fright. 

The stable building was large, with a dozen animals. The companions pulled up shy of a brown mare whose eyes rolled white at the sight of them. 

“Why come here?” Armand asked Lance. 

The American vaguely gestured at the horses. “We need to go, fast. We’ll ride out of here.”

“Do you know how to saddle or ride a horse?” He deadpanned.

Lance’s face reddened. “No.”

Lia’s face was tense and pale. Her eyes suddenly opened wide and she hurriedly waved them out of the doorway and into hiding, dragging Mei along with her as she herself ducked into shadows. 

Two more soldiers ran past towards the inferno. 

Mei felt a deep bruise on her leg and gingerly tested it, feeling a sharp stab of pain. She might have cracked her femur. Looking over at the animals, a horse to escape on would be nice, but she didn’t know how to saddle or ride either. She gritted her teeth and tried to stand on her own. “It’s a long way to Bridgetown and the night is running out. Let’s just go.”

Armand gave her and her leg a dubious glance but only nodded. “Lean on me if you need to.”

She gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks. I’ll try on my own for now.” Her entire body felt like it had been through a meat grinder. She wanted to crawl into a bath and bed and maybe a hospital. But she was all-too-aware that their best chance of taking the ship in Bridgetown was under cover of confusion and darkness and they had to hurry to reach their objective before the sun rose.

Leaving the horses behind, they crept out of the stables and made for the jungle. Luckily, the mill was situated on the edge of town and it wasn’t far. 

Mei sensed movement and turned her head. To her relief, she saw Jie shoot out from a patch of shadow bushes and catch up. The jaguar looked scared and nervous and seemed more than happy to get away from all the noise and danger of this place. 

Together, they reached the relative safety of the trees outside of Speightstown and merged with the darkness of the jungle. 

*

Cheeto followed closely behind Juan as the pair traversed the countryside. The plan to fool the soldiers in the fort about Spanish saboteurs had worked a little too well. Twice now they’d had to flee and hide from patrols on horseback sent out to scour the landscape for him and Juan. He was still sweating from the last near miss after they’d hidden in a farm shed at the edge of a cotton field while a search party tore past on horseback. 

Now they picked their way through a field of immature indigo plants, crouching low so as not to stick out so much amidst the shorter plants.

The hush and peacefulness of the night shattered and he looked over to see a windmill on their right exploding, bright orange flames rising into the night and illuminating this side of the town. 

“What the—!” He jerked sideways away from it on instinct, though they were a few hundred meters away. 

“I’m guessing that’s the distraction they came up with,” Juan muttered. 

Cheeto shook his head in wonder. “Man, that chica es loca. Every soldier on the island is gonna come running.”

“That’s the plan.” Juan hung and shook his head but also half smiled. “What have we gotten ourselves into with that woman?”

An idea occurred to Cheeto and he slapped Juan on the back. “Hey. That’s not far from us. Maybe they’ll come this way to escape. Let’s try to catch them rather than meet up down the road.”

Juan was of a similar mind and the two scampered on an angle towards the disaster, though still heading south of it. Good fortune smiled on them when they spotted their coconspirators fleeing the scene. 

Cheeto plucked a stone from the ground and hurled it through the air. 

The rock crashed into the ground in front of the Carib girl, who looked up and recognized them. Pointing him and Juan out to the others, the group slowed to allow them to rejoin. 

“That was you?” Juan asked Mei. He nodded his head towards the raging fire.

She replied with a pained grin. “Yeah. How’d it go with you guys?”

“Great!” Cheeto happily enthused. “They’re all over us. Been chasing us something fierce. They totally think we’re Spanish spies.” He was proud of that. He’d been a little more scared than he wanted to admit going up to that fort. But they’d pulled off the con game and gotten away and now he felt safe enough to recover his humour. 

“Let’s keep going,” Armand urged. “We have a long way to go.”

The group, feeling a little more secure reunited and in larger numbers, continued on, darting from one shadow to another as they wormed their way around Speightstown, moving southward through fields and brush.

Cheeto saw the way Mei was limping and looking worn. He felt pretty drained himself, despite of, or perhaps because of, the adrenalin rush earlier. Apparently it was about fifteen kilometres to their destination. He wondered if they were going to make it.

*

Leftentant Davies could still smell Lorelai’s perfume. He could still taste her plush lips on his own. The ghostly feel of her naked flesh still warmed his hands. His head swum in what, until minutes ago, had been a pleasantly light-drunken state.

He could see the fire raging up head at the end of Commercial Street and saw the harried distress in the other soldiers as they ran to help prevent the fire from taking out the entire town. He’d already been made aware of the issue of Spanish spies in the area and a potential invasion. 

Thus he was somewhat regretful at having imbibed this much while on duty. And at having been roused from Lorelai’s place, rather than his office at Fort One considering he was the commander on active watch this night. His stomach rumbled unpleasantly as he thought about Captain Fowler learning of these things.

Reaching the end of the cobblestone street, he stood amidst chaos. 

The front half of the conical mill had caved in on itself, leaving the back wall standing alone. The wooden blades of the windmill lay atop the warehouse on the right side of the street, burning brightly and torching the warehouse along with it. The warehouse on the left was half flattened and also on fire. Soldiers and citizens were swiftly gathering to fight the blazes, but without modern equipment, there wasn’t much they could do. 

The sugar factory had been obliterated, the smell of burnt sugar replacing Lorelai’s perfume in his nostrils. Striding forward with the vague idea of taking command of the situation, he glanced sideways as something caught his attention. Then he shuddered and jumped back a step. Clutching his stomach, he tried not to vomit all over the street.

A soldier had been imbedded into the side of the warehouse. Another was a crumpled ball at the base of the wall. Both were charred like flash-burned barbecue. Wisps of gray smoke coiled up from the pink and black flesh that had cracked open in the heat.

Well, that would probably explain the fate of the guards on duty. A waft of burned meat made him gag and he hastily backed up to get away from it. 

One of his subordinates ran up: young, blond, and ambitious. What was the kid’s name again? Bount? Bunsen? Wait, did it even start with a B? The young man saluted. “Multiple casualties as far as we can figure, sir. No idea what caused it yet.”

He fought back a yawn. “Was it an accident? Or the Spanish?”

“No idea, sir. No witnesses as far as we can tell.” A glance at the two corpses, yet he betrayed none of Davies’s unease at their state.

Davies mentally groaned. Iron-stomached bastard. This kid was far too chipper for the middle of the night. “The priority is getting those fires out,” he snapped. “Knock buildings down to provide a break if need be but don’t let it spread!”

“Aye, sir!” Another salute and the young man—Binton?—took off. 

More soldiers came running up the streets, staring up at the fire, some still pulling on their uniforms after having been woken out of bed. It was all hands on duty during the crisis. 

Hopefully a worse crisis wasn’t about to descend on them. Was this just the work of saboteurs, or were the Spanish landing in force?

Davies waved over to one of his sergeants. “Boz! Assemble two squads and sweep the area around the town. Send runners up and down the coast too.”

“But, sir, we already have—“

“Double check! I don’t want to get surprised. Is this just an accident or an attack? Find out! Have we sent a runner to Bridgetown yet?”

“I’m not sure, sir.”

“Find out. And then send another runner, just in case.”

The man saluted and sprinted off. 

Davies stalked towards some of the firefighters, determined to make himself seen and heard, if nothing else. He’d leave the hauling of water buckets to others. Privileges of rank and all that. 

*

After circling around Speightstown, the companions decided to return to the road and chance the faster path, despite the fact that messengers and troops would no doubt use it as well at some point. 

“It’s just a lot faster than trooping cross country,” Armand had argued. “And we need every minute we can get. The sun rises early in the Caribbean.”

On the road south of town, there were more coastal forts, of course, all of which were alert for trouble. Soldiers were visible on the ramparts, most eyes on the sea, expecting Spanish ships to appear, yet eyes were turned their way as well, forcing them to slow down and stick to the deepest shadows. 

Creeping parallel top the road until they passed by the forts, they heard a horse galloping towards them from behind as a messenger came from Speightstown. 

A soldier in the nearest fort hailed the rider. “Ho! What news? Have the Spanish landed?”

The messenger pulled up, horse rearing momentarily. He shouted at the man on the fort’s roof and there was no urgency in his tone. “Nothing sighted so far. Seems to be just the work of spies.”

The soldier above relaxed. “Good to hear.”

An officer came from behind and reprimanded the pair. “Just because we have yet to see anything doesn’t mean they aren’t still coming. Stay alert. And get a move on down there!” He shouted at the rider. 

The messenger kicked his heels into his steed and raced off down the road. He made it about thirty meters before he ran into a patrol coming up the road and the congestion brought him to another halt. 

Mei bit her lip, worried. “I don’t like the sound of that,” she whispered to the others.

“What’s wrong?” Juan asked. 

“They don’t seem worried enough.” But what to do about it? She tried fast to think of something that would put the fear back into the soldiers. Then a lightbulb went off in her mind. She looked at the Spanish pair. “You feel up to an encore?”

Cheeto swallowed. “Another con?”

“Yeah. Only,” she turned to Lance, “you’ll be the star of this show.” She told them her idea. 

Lance was shaking his head hard before she’d even finished speaking. “Hell no. No. Never. Not a chance.”

She flicked her eyes at the road. The messenger was still there, held up speaking to the soldiers on patrol. “We’ve got seconds. It’s a great opportunity.”

“No!” He quietly barked. 

Armand nudged him. “Come on. It’s a good idea.”

“W-we’re up for it if he is,” Cheeto told them, looking a bit calmer now that he knew who would be taking the most risk.

Lance looked around and saw everyone staring at him. He snarled. “Fine. Whatever.” At a nod from Juan, he rose, put some distance between him and the others, and then charged the patrol and messenger, shouting. “The Spanish have landed! The Spanish are coming!”

Everyone on the road and on top of the forts heard him and turned their heads. 

Juan and Cheeto exploded from cover. Raising their rifles, they took aim at him and fired, rifles blazing, puffs of smoke blooming, and bullets ripping through the leaves just wide of Lance.

The American whirled and showed them an angry, surprised look. He raised his own rifle and shot back. 

A bullet whizzed by over Cheeto’s head and elicited a loud stream of Spanish invectives. 

Lance continued on, shouting once more. “They’ve landed in the east! Six ships! Over a thousand soldiers!”

The English burst into frenzied motion, shouting at each other.

The messenger kicked his horse and forced his way through the patrol, now very intent on delivering his message.

Cheeto and Juan both got off another shot but the English soldiers were already in motion, raising their own weapons and taking aim. A hail of lead sent the pair diving for cover and scampering away, heading north-east. 

Mei led Armand, Lia and Jie southeast, moving slowly and taking advantage of the distraction, watching the patrol go after the others. Unfortunately, they were not as stealthy as they’d hoped. 

A shout went up from the patrol. “There! More of them!” An arm pointed at the grove of bushes they were entering. 

Desperate, she tried to get into the act as well. “We’re English!” She shouted, waving them in the direction of the others. “After them!” 

But it was too late. The patrol split in half and while four went after Juan and Cheeto, the other four came towards her. 

Sensing danger and perhaps seeing and hearing a lot of guns, Jie nervously melted away into the night. 

Mei gripped her sword in one hand and pistol in the other. But before she could decide whether or not to fight off the soldiers, they were on them. There were shouts of surprise and suspicion and then she and Lia were forced to their knees at rifle point. She cursed under her breath, frightened and furious. Then she frowned. Where had Armand gone?

She heard more gunshots. Several minutes later, the two ‘spies’ were paraded back, Cheeto bleeding from a shot in the arm, both looking despondent. 

Her heart sank. It was over. And it was all her fault. Self loathing and guilt flooded her being. If only she hadn’t tried to take this extra, foolish gamble. The plan had been working. Why had she tried to take it even farther? Idiot! She’d gotten them all captured. 

The lean-faced sergeant leading the patrol stood over the captives with a very smug look. “So these are the Spanish saboteurs, huh?” He smiled cruelly. “Just a few cunt prisoners making trouble. Boy, are you lot in for it.” Putting his thumbs in his belt, he looked relaxed. “Guess we can call off the alarm. There’s no invasion after all, is there?”

Mei hung her head.