They’d forced her hand. Fair enough. She might be in a weakened condition, but she could still function, for now. How to get off the damned island?
The soldiers would expect her to run away from civilization, wouldn’t they? Could she fool them by running towards it? If she was going to find a sailboat or rowboat or something, she’d have to find a town or port. The ship she’d started out on had been headed to the opposite side of the island. And the smaller one chased by the Spanish ship had gone that way too. So Mei stood up and faced west. Time to brave the island and make her daring escape. Or die trying.
Warily peeking out from behind the tree, she surveyed the tropical forest. The trees and undergrowth weren’t overly dense here. Barbados must be drier than Central or South America. She waited, breathing quietly, looking for any movement, be it soldier or jaguar. But there was only greenery and the sounds of birds.
Mei crouched and stepped forth. Moving slowly but steadily, she snaked through the underbrush, putting her feet down with care so as not to make noise. She pushed fronds and branches out of her way but held them as she passed and gently returned them to their position so as not to give herself away with extra movement.
For a long while, she stealthily crept along. She heard more sounds around her. But whether it was a branch knocking another in the wind or something else, she couldn’t say. Twice, she thought she saw movement in the forest, but when she stopped to look, there was nothing there. But it left her nerves on edge.
In this manner, she pushed through the forest towards the center of the island. Eventually, she came to a shallow stream bubbling along over rounded stones. The branches above blocked the light, leaving the water in dappled shade. Keeping an eye out in all directions, she knelt next to the water and took another drink, but not as much as the last time.
Which way to go? The water was flowing behind her, so that would mean it was going east, right? She needed to keep heading west. That meant upstream.
Something snapped over to her left and she dropped low, all her attention on listening for more sounds in that direction. She didn’t dare move. And then she realized that she was somewhat exposed in the water.
A rustle. This time on the right. She glanced that way, but saw nothing.
Were there multiple soldiers hunting her? Did jaguars make noise? Or were these just natural forest sounds? Maybe she was just being paranoid.
Staying very low, she crawled across the stream, heedless of how wet and dirty she got.
Two quick shots shattered the stillness of the forest. One ripped a branch in half over Mei’s head. The other kicked up dirt only a handspan from her knee and sprayed her with dirt.
She hurled herself forward, away from the stream.
Something, or more likely someone, crashed through the bush, close behind.
She tripped and fell forward. She hit the ground hard, ribs on an exposed root, the wind knocked out of her and stunning her. But her mind screamed at her body to get up, to flee or to fight. Desperately trying to suck air back into her lungs, she fumbled in a pocket for a pistol.
A marine charged out of the greenery, rifle in his hands. As soon as he spotted her, he skidded to a halt and raised the weapon, pointing it at her.
Mei rolled to the side and the first shot cut the dirt behind her.
The soldier yelped in fright. Something growled.
She looked up, pistol ready to fire.
The soldier screamed as the jaguar bit into his head, crushing skull bones. The great cat’s front paws were hooked deep into the man’s neck and shoulders. As she watched, the powerful hind legs pushed down, disembowelling him and spilling his entrails out onto the ground, great ropes of them.
She watched in horror, unable to believe what she was seeing or to look away.
A shot fired. It thudded into the soldier’s back. Another came and flew past the jaguar’s head, scaring it enough for it to release its prey and drop to the ground. Then two more marines were running at Mei and the cat, rifles in one hand, drawn pistols in the other.
Mei urged herself to her feet and ran the other direction. Only the fact that she wove around bushes and trees saved her as more bullets thrummed by in the air or tore at the leaves around her.
The jaguar, perhaps just as spooked, ran alongside of her, only a couple meters away, driven by the hunters. But she could do nothing about that. Any second, she expected a bullet to tear through her back and shred her pounding heart.
She ran pellmell, not caring or thinking of where she was going. And then the trees parted and she was running through a field of young tobacco. A handful of houses stood before her and the ocean beyond. A village!
“Halt!” one of the marines shouted. Yet he didn’t wait; he fired.
The bullet caught her in the shoulder and spun her around, sending her to the ground. Pain blossomed and she cried out, tears appearing in her eyes. Damn that hurt!
“Caribs!” one of the men shouted, though she could not see it with her eyes closed as she rolled about in pain. There were more shots, shouts of panic and hooting and hollering from multiple people as they must have come out of the trees or village.
Mei rolled to her good side and tried to stand. She raised her head and felt an arrow hit her in the stomach. She looked down in shock. No. No, this couldn’t be happening. If she died here, she’d respawn in chains, a prisoner again. No! It was too soon.
Refusing to die here, she forced herself to her feet. The beach. There must be boats. One foot in front of the other, she staggered forward.
A very thin man with jet black hair and light brown skin appeared beside her, walking casually, a big, mocking grin on his face. He wore a necklace of feathers and a hide loincloth but nothing else. A short, crude bow was in one hand and a quiver on his back.
She looked at him, in something of a daze from the massive amounts of pain and…something else. Was he the one who’d shot her? Was was he just walking along like that? It didn’t matter. She turned her head forward. The beach. She had to find a boat. And she did.
Passing one of the houses, she saw two huge canoes pulled up onto the sand. Inside each were a three or four adult English people, looking beaten and terrified. A couple of them sat like statues, unmoving, eyes just staring, unblinking.
Mei felt her own movements grow sluggish. In fact, her body was growing very numb, very quickly. She fell forwards and landed with a thunk on the ground, unable to do so much as raise her hands to stop it. What was going on? And why wasn’t she panicking like she should be? What was wrong with her?
The carib stood over her and laughed. He looked over his shoulder and said something to others, pointing at her and laughing.
Someone else replied in their tongue. Then two more men walked by, carrying a dead soldier between them. Then two more followed with the last soldier.
Mei saw herself lifted off the ground and dragged to the canoe. She felt nothing. Her thoughts were fuzzy. It took a lot of time and effort to think about what was happening to her. Poison, surely. What was that famous toxin used in the Americas? Curare. It paralyzed. But didn’t it also kill?
She was carelessly dumped into the canoe alongside the dead bodies, her body flopping loosely. Then the caribs pushed the canoes into the water and jumped in before grabbing long paddles. She was aware that her breathing was growing very shallow. Her lungs burned, starved for oxygen.
This was not at all a pleasant nor quick way to die.
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