Arthur slowly regained consciousness, coughing violently into sand.
"Hello, Arthur."
He looked up, shielding his eyes from the searing sun. Grace was standing over him, wearing that same white dress and her hair flowing loosely in the breeze.
"Grace..." he wheezed, "What... what are you doing here?"
"I'm not."
"But you're there, I can see you."
"I'm not here. You're hallucinating, Arthur. Come on, you have to get up. You have to walk."
"Where the hell are we?"
"Certainly not Tahiti," she smiled slightly, "Come along."
He slowly stood up, staggering towards her. The sand burned at his bare feet. His whole body was sore and every movement was agony. She offered her hand and he took it. How can he be hallucinating if he can feel her? They walked in silence for a few minutes, before he fell to his knees. He was so weak.
"Arthur, you can't stop."
"But... just a moment..."
"No. Get up. It's not much further."
The seriousness of her voice forced himself to stand again. She linked her arm through his, letting him lean against her for support. Everything was strange; the smells, the sounds, even the feeling of the sun beating down on him. But her presence was comforting, even if she was just a supposed hallucination.
They continued on for what felt like hours until she stopped.
"I have to leave you now."
"No, don't go," he grasped her hand. "Please."
"It's just over there," she pointed to some large boulders behind which smoke was rising.
"Please stay."
"You'll be okay, Arthur," she smiled and kissed him on the cheek.
He fell forward in the sand, trying to get his strength back. He reached for her, but she was gone. He looked back the way they came and saw only his footprints in the sand. He stood again and walked towards the smoke.
There, he saw Dutch, Bill, Micah, and Javier gathered around a fire. "Dutch," he tried calling out, but his throat was so dry. "Dutch... boys..." he staggered towards them. Dutch looked up.
"Arthur, you're alive!" Dutch and the others rushed to him.
"You're okay," Javier reached him first.
"It is a goddamn miracle," Dutch said, relieved, "Someone get him a drink!" Bill handed Arthur a canteen of water which he drank eagerly as Dutch led him up to the campfire. He sat down, relieved to finally be in shade and to have found the others.
"So, where the hell are we?"
"We are on the island of Guarma," Dutch gestured around them, "Javier asked a local. It's an old sugar plantation island, second island east of Cuba."
"So what next?"
Before Dutch could answer, a group of men in light blue uniforms surrounded them with guns. A man rode up on a horse, shouting in Spanish. The guards started chaining them together.
"Well, this is quite a welcome," said Dutch.
"Who are you?" asked the man on the horse.
"We are no one."
"Is that so? What's your name?"
"Aiden O'Malley."
Arthur smirked slightly to himself. This was a new one.
"Is all of this really necessary?" Dutch asked as they chained him to the others.
"We got enough troubles around here right now, Mr. O'Malley, without taking a chance on a bunch of vagabonds. Behave yourselves and no harm will befall you."
"Vamos!" The guards pushed them into walking, awkwardly with the chains on their feet. Dutch continued to talk with the man on the horse, who had introduced himself as Levi Simon, Senior Overseer for Alberto Fussar. The name sounded familiar, but Arthur couldn't place it.
After some time, Levi promised they'd be free as soon as he knew exactly who they were, then spoke Spanish to one of the guards. Arthur wanted to ask Javier what they were saying, but knew doing so could get them shot.
"Welcome to Guarma, gentlemen, now if you'll excuse me," Levi rode off, leaving the guards to lead them to wherever they were to be jailed.
"So what now, 'Aiden'," Arthur asked.
"I don't know," said Dutch.
Arthur shuffled along, unable to move his legs too far because of the chains. He took in his surroundings, at the blue-green waters off the beach and the dense forest of tropical trees. It would probably be quite nice if they weren't on their way to jail.
They soon met up with some other guards and more men chained together. Dutch mentioned that the chained up men didn't look too dangerous and Arthur had to agree. They were kind of scrawny and were wearing rags.
"Excuse me, sir," Dutch called out to one of the guards, "Who are our new friends here?"
"Criminales," the guard replied.
"And what crime did they commit?"
"Insurrección."
"Insurrection?" one of the ragged men said, "That's quite a word."
The guard yelled at him and hit them into moving again. Arthur wondered how much further they had to go. He was tired and sore. He just wanted to leave. He wanted to go home.
Home. Where is home now?
A flurry of gunshots surrounded them and a guard near Arthur was shot in the head. He hopped over, grabbed the keys and unlocked the chains from himself before handing the keys to Dutch. He grabbed the dead guard's pistol, took cover behind a rock, and started shooting the other guards. Between him and the mystery shooters within the trees, the guards were killed quickly.
"Everyone okay?" Dutch asked when the shooting had stopped. The others nodded and unlocked the shackles from their waists and legs. "Oh, damn, reinforcements." More guards appeared in the hills, running towards them.
"We need to get out of here," an accented voice called from the trees. "Quick, let's go!"
They ran towards the trees as the next group of guards began shooting. They shot Javier in the leg.
"Go, get outta here!" he yelled as the others stopped, "Get outta here, there's a lot of 'em!"
"What do you think?" Dutch asked Arthur. Before he could answer, Micah pushed past them.
"We gotta move, Dutch!"
"Don't lose faith, son!" Dutch yelled to Javier, pulling Arthur with him, "We'll find you!"
They followed the new man, zig zagging through the trees to avoid being shot by the guards quickly closing in. They ran to what looked like the remains of an old stone homestead. The man opened a crate to hand out rifles. Arthur took one, took cover, and shot the guards as they arrived.
Finally, the remaining guards were overpowered and they ran, leaving the men to escape.
"What you doing here?" the man with the accent asked.
"I have no idea, running from somebody or something, I guess," Dutch replied wearily.
"Aren't we all. Hercule Fontaine," the man introduced himself. "Well, Fussar will be desperate to find you. We must be very careful."
One of the other men, Leon, explained that Fussar was a tyrant, who would work the poor people of the island to death to make him rich. He went on to say that a group of men, shipped in as slaves from another island, had escaped to try and find their way home, but Fussar's men were hunting them down.
"I can arrange a boat for you, but you must do something for me," Hercule said, "Find those escaped workers, and then come meet me at Cinco Torres." They emerged onto a hill and he pointed at an old fort on the coast.
"You help us get back our friend, and we'll do everything we can," said Dutch.
"Thank you. If your friend is still alive, they will have him at Fussar's compound there," he pointed down at a small town. "There is a cave hidden below the cliffs, it will lead you right there."
Hercule led them to the ruins of an old church and told them they could stay there for now. He bid them goodbye as they looked around at their new spot.
"I'll go scope out the entrance to that cave," said Dutch, "Arthur-"
"I need to get some rest," Arthur interrupted. His whole body was screaming with exhaustion and pain.
"Well, you're right, we all need to relax," said Dutch.
Arthur lay down on a cot and immediately fell asleep.
He awoke sometime the following morning to find Dutch already gone to the cave, and Micah and Bill standing guard.
"I'm going to have a look around," Arthur said, picking up a rifle and heading towards the trees, "See if I can find those workers."
"Don't get lost, Morgan," said Micah, "We ain't wasting time looking for you."
Arthur brushed him off and walked along the narrow path through the trees. It was dense and humid yet cool at the same time from the shade. He could hear insects and birds he had never heard before. It smelled different. He wasn't sure yet if he liked it. He continued on until he reached a clearing and found himself on a small cliff overlooking a waterfall. Colourful birds were sitting on the cliff but flew away as he approached. He watched them fly down along the small river, passing a figure in white.
He took out his binoculars to get a closer look. After a moment he lowered them, rubbed his eyes, then looked again.
"What the-," he said to himself. He put his binoculars away and quickly made his way through the trees down to the lower part of the river.
Grace was sitting on a rock, wearing the same white dress he had seen earlier. A blue macaw was perched on her raised hand while she was humming to it. It flew away as Arthur got closer.
"Hello, Arthur, feeling better?" she turned to him, smiling.
"How in the hell did you get here? I thought you were an hallucination."
"I am, in a way."
"So why can I still see and touch you?" he put his hand on her shoulder as if to be sure she was actually there.
"Because you want to."
"Maybe I don't want to."
"If you didn't, I wouldn't be here."
"So just because I want to see you, you just magically show up?"
"Seems to be the case."
"That's impossible."
"And yet, here I am."
"Can anyone else see you?" he looked around, suddenly worried for her safety.
"No," she replied. "I am just an image of Grace that you want to see."
"So you're a ghost?"
"No."
"I don't understand."
"You've been through a lot these past few days. I'm here because you need me."
"What, you gonna get us all off this damn island?"
"No. I'm here because you need something to give you hope, to give you something to live for."
"But... why you?" Arthur asked, "You lied to me."
"I didn't lie to you," she stood up, "You assumed as much."
"But, all that, what you said, it's impossible."
"Yes, it should be, shouldn't it?" She hopped down from the rock. "But if it is, then how am I here?"
"You're not making any sense."
"I am making perfect sense. You just don't want to believe it."
"So you're saying that I should believe everything you've said? All that nonsense about not staying dead? Because I saw you get shot and die!"
"Did you, though?"
"Of course I did!"
"You saw her get shot. You didn't see her die."
"You weren't moving!"
"But not dead."
"But-"
"Arthur, I can't make you believe me, but the longer you take, the longer it will take for her to recover."
Arthur frowned, trying to make sense of it all. If Grace was still alive, does that mean Hosea might be too? But there was so much blood after they were shot. He thought back to each time he'd seen her looking very sick. After saving John and Jack in the river, she never resurfaced. And when she was shot in Valentine, she didn't move, but he didn't stay too long to check on her afterward. And then he saw her after they got Jack back from Angelo Bronte...
"What happened at the Bronte mansion?"
"I kept Jack safe."
"But what happened after he gave Jack back?"
"I wasn't needed anymore so they terminated my employment."
Jesus. He looked over at Grace, or this ghost or hallucination or whatever she is. She smiled at him.
"There you go. Now, you have things to do. Be careful." She kissed him on the cheek and he felt a wave of warmth and calmness wash over him. When he blinked, she was gone.
What the hell was that about? It still didn't make any sense. But it looked more probable that Grace might actually not be able to permanently die. How was that even possible? He would have to ask her when he got back.
If he got back. And if she would still talk to him. If she was even still alive.
Until then, he had to get out of this damn place so now he had some poor workers to locate before Fussar's men found them.
His memory was a blur after parting with Grace (or whatever she was). Arthur now found himself tied to a chair and being beaten by a man yelling in Spanish. He wasn't given a chance to reply as he was repeatedly punched in the face and the stomach.
"Who are you? Who are you? Who are you?" the man demanded in English, speaking rapidly and not allowing Arthur a moment to reply, "Where you from?" He punched him with every question. "Where you from? Where you from?" Arthur felt his ribs crack with a well-placed punch.
"I'm... I'm an American," Arthur sputtered and gasped for air, "my name is Leviticus Cornwall." The captor narrowed his eyes then turned his attention to another man tied to a chair who Arthur recognised as Leon. They spoke in Spanish before the captor started beating Leon.
Arthur struggled against the ropes that held him down. He took advantage of the captor being distracted by a third prisoner and rocked the chair until it fell over and broke, freeing him. The captor whirled around, took out a knife, but Arthur found the strength to tackle and beat him unconscious.
"You okay?" he asked the third prisoner, a one-armed man named Baptiste, as he released him.
"Shh," said Leon, "I think I hear voices coming from the other ruins down there."
"Maybe there's still time to get to the other workers," said Baptiste.
"Let's sneak down and take a look," Leon nodded at Arthur in thanks as he was untied from the chair. Leon turned to Baptiste, "You should rest here." Baptiste nodded, relieved he'll be able to recuperate.
"You'll need this," Baptiste took a rifle from their captor and handed it to Arthur.
Arthur followed Leon quietly through the complex, carefully avoiding the guards, to the back where the other three workers were being strung up and hung. Arthur crept behind the hangman and knifed him in the neck before using the rifle to shoot the ropes of the hanging workers. Before they could untie their hands and feet, the other guards had heard the gunshots and ran to investigate.
Leon took the gun from the dead hangman and helped Arthur shoot the remaining guards. While Arthur caught his breath and tried not to cough too much, Leon released the workers. Baptiste arrived, still moving gingerly, but forcing his way through it.
"Thank you, we owe you our lives," he said to Arthur.
"My pleasure," Arthur coughed.
"Hercule is getting a boat line up to get you and your men out of here," said Baptiste as he checked the newly freed men, "Just meet him at Cinco Torres."
"We'll be there," Arthur nodded. Finally. All they had to do now was get Javier and they can leave this damn place.
"Here, this is for you," Baptiste handed Arthur some money, "It's not much, but it's the least we can do."
Arthur took it, sighed, and handed it back, "Thanks, but use it to get these poor bastards out of here."
"If you are sure," Baptiste pocketed the money again, "Good luck getting home."
Arthur returned to the church ruins to rest. What a day. He couldn't relax for too long since he still had to meet Dutch over at the hidden cave. He tried to ignore the pain in his ribs but every breath stung.
He made his way across the waterfall, pausing long enough to see if she was still around but she wasn't. He tried not to feel too disappointed. He still didn't know what to make of it.
Dutch was waiting for him, holding a lit torch. He lit another one as Arthur approached.
"Hey, so what's the plan?" Arthur asked, taking the second torch.
"Well, I found the cave Hercule spoke of and also a, uh, guide," Dutch gestured to a narrow ledge along the cliffs, "She's up ahead, I think we can trust her." He led the way, slowly shimmying along the ledge.
"So what we gonna do after we get Javier?"
"We're going to get off this blasted island, and go back to where we just came from. We get everyone together and get back on track."
"What, you mean you wanna go back to Saint Denis?"
"It's what they won't expect us to do."
"Whatever you say," Arthur said as they reached the mouth of the cave, "We're a bunch of penniless fugitives on some Caribbean dump sneaking through caves while two of our best men got shot back home. How could I doubt you, Dutch?"
"You got no idea, Arthur," Dutch's eyes flickered slightly, "I will do whatever it takes for us to survive. Now hold on." Dutch took a couple steps into the cave before calling out. "Gloria!"
A few moments later, an old lady shuffled into view from within the cave, speaking in Spanish.
"Buenos noches," said Dutch.
"Buenos noches," Gloria approached, holding her hand out, "Dinero, the money, the gold."
"Aqui," Dutch held out a bar of gold which Gloria took and gave it a good sniff. "Oh, it's genuine, you old hag."
She seemed satisfied and gestured for them to follow. Dutch turned to Arthur.
"That bit of gold there is the last I got from the bank robbery. The rest of it-"
"-is at the bottom of the sea," Arthur sighed, and followed them through the cave. "So what happened with John in that bank?"
"He survived, unlike dear Hosea and Lenny. The only one they took alive. Why is that you think?"
"I don't know. I was already on the roof, I didn't see it."
"And Abigail, I presume she was able to slip away in time," Dutch said with a hint of suspicion.
"What are you talking about?"
"You know, when I look back at all the chaos of the past few weeks, the apparent superficial chaos, I begin to wonder that maybe, for somebody, this is all going exactly to plan."
"I still ain't sure what you're saying, Dutch."
Gloria hushed them, speaking in Spanish, and they arrived at a daylit cavern blocked by a large yett. "The door is stuck, you'll have to lift it."
Dutch and Arthur lifted the gate and Gloria hurried through, muttering something in Spanish. She stopped at a ladder, pointed up, and turned to Dutch.
"Up this way?" he asked.
"Si, then you pay more," she held out her hand. "More."
"Okay." Dutch took a step towards her and she pulled out a knife.
"Pay more! Pay more now!"
Dutch slapped the knife out of her hand then grabbed her by the throat, slamming her against the ladder.
"Dutch, what are you doing?" Arthur watched in horror as Dutch strangled the old woman.
"Horrible old crone," Dutch said, turning to Arthur.
"But you killed her."
"She was going to betray us, Arthur, couldn't you tell?"
"No," Arthur replied, "You keep killing folk, Dutch."
"I am just trying to make sure that some of us survive, Arthur."
They made their way up the ladder to a ruined part of Fussar's compound.
"So how did you know she was going to betray us? What she say?" Arthur asked quietly as they peered around a doorway to get their bearings.
"It was in her eyes and the way she was leading us," Dutch replied.
"But you said you knew Spanish."
"I know human beings, Arthur."
Arthur scoffed under his breath. "You gonna strangle me next?"
"I'm doing the best I can," said Dutch before they heard laughter. They looked around the doorway to see a group of guards approaching. Javier was being dragged by his leg behind a donkey as Fussar himself was taunting him. They stopped a little way past them and Fussar departed, leaving the guards to continue drinking and kicking Javier.
Arthur and Dutch snuck around, creeping behind buildings, and taking out a few guards along the way. They take out two more guards in the sugar processing plant before Dutch said they needed a diversion.
"Gonna strangle another old lady?" Arthur asked sarcastically.
"That's enough," Dutch looked around the plant. "We're going to cause an explosion. We got lots of sugar and a furnace. Help me out here."
Arthur nodded and started slashing sacks of sugar and closing the window shutters. Dutch emptied the sugar sacks around the plant as Arthur opened the valve to the furnace. He started coughing as it became more dusty.
"Wait for me outside, I'll get this started," Dutch picked up some brittle dried leaves and papers and a lantern. Arthur went outside, relieved to get out of all that dust. Dutch joined him a few moments later and they crept away from the building. They hid behind a large well closer to where the guards had Javier caged up.
The explosion distracted the guards away from Javier allowing Dutch and Arthur to run to him. As Dutch reached Javier, more guards arrived.
"Arthur, you cover us!" Dutch yelled as he carried Javier through the compound. Arthur shot the guards as they appeared then followed Dutch. Javier had passed out. They ran through the sugar cane fields in an effort to escape.
"Let's get to the river! We can hold them off from there!" Dutch shouted as he ran ahead. They crossed the river and Dutch told Arthur to hold the remaining guards off. There were so many of them, but he managed to kill them all. He hadn't been sure if he had enough ammunition.
Once it was clear, he took a moment to catch his breath. He looked up the river to where he had seen Grace and even though he knew she wouldn't be there, he was disappointed she wasn't.
Despite everything, he missed her. There was something he read some time ago, something about how you don't know what you have until it's gone. Well, whatever the saying was, he had to put it out of his head and focus on getting out of here.
They met Hercule at Cinco Torres, intending to board the boat he had promised, but he informed them that Fussar now knows who they are and had called in the Cuban navy. Dutch tried to protest, but Hercule told him that no boat would be able to leave until they had dispatched of the soldiers.
Fussar had called in a warship, but thanks to a heavy cannon Hercule and his rebels had on the roof of the old fort, they sunk it. Finally they were able to make their way to the dock to meet the boat Hercule had promised.
But when they arrived, Micah discovered that Fussar had the boat's captain kidnapped and guards and guns positioned so if they tried to sail away, the boat would be sunk.
"This fella is really beginning to try my patience," Dutch said, annoyed.
"And he ain't even had you tortured yet," said Arthur.
"I like the man's style," Micah added, "he's thorough, nasty, and vindictive. However, in this instance, I don't see we got any alternative but we go and free our friendly captain and destroy the artillery." He pulled out some dynamite sticks from the saddlebags he was carrying.
"For once, I agree with you," Arthur took one of the dynamite bundles .
Hercule agreed to go along while Bill and Javier stayed behind to guard the boat. The rest hurried up to the first artillery post. Micah and Arthur took out the guards and planted the dynamite on the cannons.
The ensuing explosion drew out the guards as they shot their way to the next artillery post. Micah planted dynamite on the next few cannons while the others held off the guards.
They made their way to the workers' compound where even more guards were waiting for them. As they shot them down, Arthur hoped this poor bastard captain was still alive. Micah pointed out the cabin the captain was being held in, and when it was clear Arthur went in.
He saw the captain laying on his side, moving slightly. But when Arthur moved towards him, Levi Simon tackled him from behind, knocking him to the floor.
"I got you now, you bastard," he aimed his pistol at Arthur.
"Oh, we are all bastards, my friend," Dutch entered and aimed his gun at Levi, "but only one of us is some would be emperor's whore."
Arthur slowly stood up as Fussar came in through the back door and aimed his gun at Dutch who aimed a second gun at Fussar. Arthur aimed his pistol at Fussar as well, looking between him, Dutch, and Levi, wondering who was going to make the first move.
No one seemed to notice the captain on the floor who now carefully sat up. Arthur kicked the rifle he had dropped to him and he shot Levi Simon, killing him. Unfortunately the distraction allowed Fussar to escape.
"I suppose you men are my cargo," the captain stood.
"Dutch van der Linde, I am sorry you got hurt."
"Captain Sa-"
"Let's go," Dutch interrupted the captain and led the way out.
They were met by more guards and had to shoot their way through to return to the boat. Hercule spotted Fussar up a tower, loading a large cannon.
"We have to take him down!" Hercule yelled to Arthur as they pushed up, "There's another cannon to our left, can you get to that?"
"I can try!" Arthur dodged between the ruins to reach the cannon. He aimed it a the top of the tower and fired it, destroying the tower and Fussar inside. He breathed a sigh of relief and rejoined the others at the boat.
They bid Hercule goodbye and were finally on their way. They were going back to the United States, back to where they are all wanted men.
"The last thing they'll be thinking is for us to turn up," Dutch tried to reassure them.
"We been on the run for a while now," Arthur said, "and it feels like our luck has turned, you know? And it ain't turnin' back. We had a good run of it, I guess."
"We ain't even played our hand yet! We just need to put some more money in our pockets, make our escape."
Arthur sighed, tuning out Dutch. He wished Trelawny had never looked into Grace's past. They could've all been free by now. Hosea and Lenny would be alive. And Grace-
He hoped she was indeed alive, impossible as it seemed. He thought of her appearances on the island often, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation for them. The only way he was going to get a straight answer was to find her. But whether he would find her alive, or in a grave was left to be seen.