“This is our Zorah, Caroni,” Sorrel said, looking around at the women. Some stood close; others sat on beds, watching. Two women were under their bedding, faces turned away. “The males and some of our band are coming up the gully. Did you manage to make any weapons?”

“A few. We got three slats off one of the metal beds. Two of the table legs. Plus your knife.”

“Are you with us?” Sorrel said.

“I’m coming,” Selan said, fingering the scar on her cheek.

“I’m with you,” Petal said.

“Not me,” Hazel said. “You’re all crazy.”

The two on beds didn’t stir.

“We know a path that hardly anyone uses on the other side of the vegetable garden. It’s a little longer, but it’ll take us right to Ganan’s front door,” Iris said.

“What about the women in the other cabin? Is it worth trying to get them to join us?”

Selan shook her head. “No time for persuading.”

Caroni nodded.

Nine women crept across the camp, rudimentary weapons in their hands. “Stay on the path,” Selan whispered. Emrallie was in front of Sorrel, who resisted the urge to touch her friend’s shoulder as she had done on so many other journeys. Dust settled on their faces and shoulders. Their footsteps on the gravel path sounded too loud.

“This is Ganan’s cabin,” Selan said. They were outside one of the houses with a peaked roof.

“Will he open the door for you?” Caroni asked.

“Maybe.”

“When he opens the door, we rush him,” Emrallie said.

“Doesn’t he have a guard?” Sorrel asked.

“For what? He’s blind, we’re locked in and the guards are on the wall. Ganan’s not expecting an enemy in the camp.”

Selan knocked on the door.

“He’s not going to hear that,” Sorrel said.

“He’s blind. He relies on his hearing.”

A male voice answered. “Who’s there?”

“Sir. It’s Selan. From the barracks. One of us is very sick, bleeding.”

“You’re supposed to be locked in! How’d you get out?”

“I guess LT forgot. Please, sir. We know you have medical supplies. We think it’s that new bleeding fever.”

The door opened and a dark-skinned man stood there. He wore dark glasses and stared upwards, his head cocked to one side. He looked about Bibi’s age, with receding hair and a heavy brow. Selan ran up the steps and shoved him hard. He stumbled and fell, and the women rushed into his cabin, closing the door behind them.

There was an old-time lamp on a table attached to a battery pack, but the lamp was off. Caroni turned it on. Ganan sat on the floor, his hands outstretched. “You’ll die for this,” he said. “Whoever you are.”