There were times, Sarah thought, when she really did not want to be a woman. That was how she felt as she was driven into the muddy village of Pavutu, the rebel stronghold, in the back of an open jeep. The village seemed to be populated almost entirely by men, who came yelling into the clearing to see who had arrived. But there were women, too, including older women who stared at her height and her hair, and then came up and poked at her, as if she might not be real.

Jennifer, who was shorter and darker, stood beside her and attracted no attention at all. Nevertheless, they were herded together into one of the huge thatch houses. Inside the house was a large open space, a kind of central room, three stories high. There was a ladder made of wood leading up to a series of landings, going all the way to the top, where there was a kind of catwalk and a viewing area. In the center of the room was a fire, and at the fire sat a heavyset man with pale skin and a dark beard. He wore sunglasses and had a sort of beret with the Jamaican flag on it.

This, it seemed, was Sambuca. They were shoved in front of him, and he leered at them, but it was clear to Sarah—she had an instinct for these things—that he was not interested in them. He was interested in Ted, and in Peter. Kenner he inspected briefly, then looked away.

“Killim.”

They pushed Kenner out the door, poking him with the butts of their rifles. They were clearly excited at the prospect of executing him.

“No nau,” Sambuca said, in a growl. “Behain.”

It took Sarah a moment to translate in her head. Not now. Behind. Which must mean later on, she thought. So Kenner had a reprieve, at least for a while.

Sambuca turned and stared at the others in the room.

“Meris,” he said, with a dismissive wave. “Goapim meri behain.”

Sarah had the distinct impression, from the grins on the faces of the boys, that they were being given the freedom to do with the two women what they wanted. Go up ’em. She and Jennifer were led off to a back room.

Sarah remained calm. Of course she knew things were bad. But they were not bad yet. She was noticing that Jennifer did not appear to be shaken in the least. She had the same flat, uninterested expression that she might have if she was walking toward a company cocktail party.

The boys took the two women into a thatched room at the back of the larger building. There were two posts sunk in the earthen floor. One of the kids took out a pair of handcuffs and cuffed Jennifer to one post, her hands behind her back. Then he cuffed Sarah to the other post in the same way. Then another kid reached up and squeezed Sarah’s tit, smiled knowingly, and walked out of the room.

“Charming,” Jennifer said, when they were alone. “You all right?”

“So far, yes.” There were drums starting to beat from somewhere outside, in the courtyard between the thatch buildings.

“Good,” Jennifer said. “It’s not over yet.”

“Sanjong is—”

“Right. He is.”

“But we came a long way in the jeeps.”

“Yes. At least two or three miles. I tried to see the odometer, but it was spattered with mud. But on foot, even running, it’ll take him a while.”

“He had a rifle.”

“Yes.”

“Can you get free?”

Jennifer shook her head. “It’s too tight.”

Through the open door, they saw Bradley and Evans being led away to another room. They glimpsed the two men only for a moment. Not long after, Kenner followed. He glanced into their room, giving what seemed to Sarah a meaningful look.

But she couldn’t be sure.

Jennifer sat down on the bare earth, leaning back against the pole. She said, “Might as well sit down. It could be a long night.” Sarah sat down, too.

A moment later, a young boy looked in and saw that they were sitting. He came into the room, looked at their handcuffs, and then walked out again.

Outside, the drums were louder. People must have been starting to gather, because the women could hear shouts and murmurs.

“Going to be a ceremony,” Jennifer said. “And I’m afraid I know what it is.”

In the next room, Evans and Kenner were also handcuffed around two posts. Because there was not a third post, Ted Bradley was handcuffed and left seated on the ground. His head was no longer bleeding, but he had a huge bruise over his left eye. And he looked distinctly frightened. But his eyelids were drooping, as if he might fall asleep.

“What’s your impression of village life so far, Ted?” Kenner said. “Still think it’s the best way to live?”

“This isn’t village life. This is savagery.”

“It’s all part of it.”

“No, it’s not. These young kids, that fat creepy guy…this is lunacy. This is everything gone wrong.”

“You just don’t get it, do you?” Kenner said. “You think civilization is some horrible, polluting human invention that separates us from the state of nature. But civilization doesn’t separate us from nature, Ted. Civilization protects us from nature. Because what you see right now, all around you—this is nature.”

“Oh no. No, no. Humans are kind, cooperative…”

“Horseshit, Ted.”

“There are genes for altruism.”

“Wishful thinking, Ted.”

“All cruelty springs from weakness.”

“Some people like cruelty, Ted.”

“Leave him alone,” Evans said.

“Why should I? Come on, Ted. Aren’t you going to answer me?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Ted said. “Maybe we’re all going to get killed here by these juvenile delinquent creeps, but I want you to know, if it’s the last fucking thing I say in my life, that you are a major and unrelenting ass-hole, Kenner. You bring out the worst in everybody. You’re a pessimist, you’re an obstructionist, you’re against all progress, against everything that is good and noble. You are a right-wing pig in…in…in whatever the fuck you are wearing. Whatever those clothes are. Where’s your gun?”

“I dropped it.”

“Where?”

“Back in the jungle.”

“You think Sanjong has it?”

“I hope so.”

“Is he coming to get us?”

Kenner shook his head. “He’s doing the job we came to do.”

“You mean he’s going to the bay.”

“Yes.”

“So nobody is coming to get us?”

“No, Ted. Nobody.”

“We’re fucked,” he said. “We’re fucking fucked. I can’t believe it.” And he started to cry.

Two boys entered the room, carrying two heavy hemp ropes. They attached one rope to each of Bradley’s wrists, tying them firmly. Then they walked out again.

The drums beat louder.

Out in the center of the village, people took up a rhythmic chant.

Jennifer said, “Can you see out the door from where you are?”

“Yes.”

“Keep an eye out. Tell me if someone is coming.”

“All right,” Sarah said.

She glanced back and saw that Jennifer had arched her back and was gripping the pole between her hands. She had also bent her legs so her soles touched the wood, and proceeded to shimmy up the pole at a remarkable speed, like an acrobat. She got to the top, raised her cuffed hands clear of the top of the pole, and then jumped lightly to the ground.

“Anybody?” she said.

“No…How’d you learn to do that?”

“Keep looking out the door.”

Jennifer slid back against her pole again, as if she were still handcuffed to it.

“Anybody yet?”

“No, not yet.”

Jennifer sighed. “We need one of those kids to come in,” she said. “Soon.”

Outside, Sambuca was giving a speech, screaming brief phrases that were each answered by a shout from the crowd. Their leader was building them up, working them into a frenzy. Even in Ted’s room, they could feel it building.

Bradley was curled in fetal position, crying softly.

Two men came in, much older than the boys. They unlocked his handcuffs. They lifted him to his feet. Each man took a rope. Together they led him outside.

A moment later, the crowd roared.