Chapter 3

Port Royal

"Okay…we're definitely not in America anymore," Jared sighed as I gazed at the amazing fortifications in front of me.

The walls reached high into the clear sky, the top piercing through the havens. The gray battlements surrounded the settlement that lay inside, the brown smoke swirling overhead the walls. Pathways had been built on top of the walls, walkways for the guards and soldiers.

Ships appeared out at sea, large ships with white sails and wooden starboards. Seagulls flew overhead as the wind rushed from the ocean. In front of us laid an open gate, like those in the movies. Villagers plunged through the gate, wagons full of pigs and men with their cows scurrying through. Women walked up and down in dresses similar to the girl that had been on the beach, arms cradling baskets or crates. Children covered in mud dashed in and out of the gate, their mothers trailing behind.

Jared and I hid behind the rocky cliff, watching the activities with complete bewilderment. Nothing of the whole scene seemed right. I brought this up to Jared.

"Of course it's not right!" Jared cried, throwing himself against a rock, causing me to roll my eyes, "There are wagons! Wagons! And look at the ships! You can't tell me those aren't the old wooden ships!"

He closed his eyes and hit his head in desperation.

"Oh, don't be such a puss, would ya?" I smirked at him, smacking on the thigh. He yelped and glare at me. I ignored him and continued,

"If this is…um…Port Royal, than this might as well be our only chance-…"

"Chance of what?"

"Awww, shush!"

Soon, we had snuck up nearer to the gate. Guards stood at the entrance, holding their long guns carelessly. They seemed rather bored. People rushed in and out of the town, heading up the road that led up to the mountains. It wasn't long before chance stepped in their way.

A wagon full of straw, driven by an old mule, passed by us slowly. The driver seemed drunk and completely oblivious to his surroundings. It was amazing how he didn't crash. I nudged Jared and pointed at the moving wagon. Surprisingly enough, he got it.

On my count, we dashed quickly behind the wagon, unnoticed by anyone, especially the guards. With a jump, I landed on the soft straw, my arm aching from the landing. Jared jumped too and quickly pulled me under the yellow hay just as the wagon passed the tired guards and into the town.

"We're in!"

"Shush!"

It wasn't long before we finally jumped off the slow moving wagon. The guy was still oblivious. We jumped off, hay in our hair and clothes, on a quiet street.

"Damn it! There's hay all over my hair!" Jared growled hotly, brushing off as much of the straw as he could. I rolled my eyes and looked around me. We were on a silent street, with carts and wagons strewed at the sides. The buildings were all low and small, smoke rekindling from the chimney. Litter covered the street, large animal dung all over it.

"Dear God, where are we?" I murmured, turning in circles. It was all like a really bad dream, of which I had no clue of. Beside me, Jared scratched his head, "Well, what do we now?"

I was about to answer him when I spied a bunch of women walking our way down the street. They were dressed in long, big dresses and talked among themselves quietly. Jared noticed them as well and seemed to look about for a place to hide. I had no intentions of hiding. I wanted to get directions.

The group of women finally saw us as they approached and began to slow their pace. They looked to the ground as they walked, cheeks flaming. A lot of people seemed to do that when they saw us.

The ladies finally neared us, but maneuvered to avoid us. I began to speak but my voice was caught in my throat. One of the women reached out and suddenly grabbed my hand,

"Ma'am, come with me! Please!" she sounded frightened and alarmed. She pulled at my hand but I did not budge.

"What? Why? Did something happened?" I cried, looking at her, bewildered. Beside me, Jared looked equally puzzled.

"Come, come, dearie! I'll take you away from him. I'll give you some nice-…" the woman said, glaring at Jared.

"What? Take me away?" I cut her off, puzzled, "I don't understand."

"You vile creature!" another woman from the group hotly cried, stepping right up to Jared's confused face, "How dare you take advantage and demoralize a young woman? Our girls ain't safe in this town anymore!" she had a thick British accent, just like the other women.

I looked at Jared, mystified.

"No, no! He-He's my brother!" I tried to explain. Why in the name did they think that Jared…YUCK!

"What?!" the lady holding my arm questioned, her hands like iron, "Then why, my child, are you out here only in your under-clothes?!"

"HUH?!" Jared and I gaped at the same time. I looked down at my attire. I was wearing a dark green sleeveless shirt and a pair of denim of shorts. How was that underwear?

It was then the sound of marching soldiers started to trump against the floor. The women paled for a second and started to scurry off, leaving Jared and I confounded.

"What the hell?!" Jared called after them but they did not turn back. That's when a group of red-coated soldiers emerged from the bend. I pulled Jared to the corner of the street to avoid the marching soldiers.

Men in red, high-collared uniform marched by, their long, pointy guns held by their side. There were about 15 of them, all adorning a thick white wig that was seen in some movies. Their shoes were polished, their belts tightened. They marched on the grimy earth fiercely, ignoring our presence.

They soon turned the corner and disappeared. After a few seconds, the sounds of screams and gunfire echoed the air.

"Okay!" I yelled, pulling myself back on the street, "What the hell is going on?! I mean, where the hell are we?!"

"Umm...Joe…"

"I mean, do you see any sense of electronics around here? Any cars?!"

"Joey…"

"And what the hell were those people talking about my clothes?! And the soldiers?! I mean, did you see the wigs? Where the hell in the whole universe-…"

"1762," Jared's words caught me off guard. I stopped babbling and turned around to see him studying a piece of dirty newspaper that he had obviously picked up from the ground. His face was pale as a ghost.

"What?"

"Well, it says it right here. May 12th, 1712."

I snatched the paper from him, tearing it slightly. I read it and felt all my blood drained from my face.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

"Told you this was your fault."