Page 158 of The Secrets of Jane: Reborn
Fuck.
I’m too short.
I start to feel the motion that might hint at the ship taking another dive, and I run over to a pole and hold it tight while the rest of the women scream. Every time I brace myself, it takes even more out of me, especially when I’ve exhausted myself so greatly already.
The blonde asks, “What are you doing?”
I ignore her to focus, to scoot a wooden box across the floor with labored breaths, quickly standing on it and nearly falling off from being lightheaded, and then unlatch the lantern. I smile with triumph as I hold the caged flame inside my hands. “Burning the ship down,” I finally say, looking around the room and realizing I need to resecure the box before it slams into someone. I sway with my movements, saying, “We’re immune to fire, and there are sirens in the water. I’m certain of it. They will protect us.”
Two of them protest with something about,‘that’s insanity’or ‘who asked you!’ But I don’t care. This damn ship has to burn, and all the assholes within it. I don’t owe these women any loyalty.
The blonde seems to be the only one who doesn’t hate my plan and says, “Back that way. There are boxes stuffed with small barrels of oil. Spread it around. I saw it earlier when everything was sliding around. I realized what you wanted, so I kept a lookout. This wood is treated with pitch and tar.”
“What’s your name?” I ask, knowing she’ll be helpful.
“Sheila—I know you’re Jane. We all do.”
Nodding, I grab a pole as the ship leans, the sound of splashing water nearly drowning out all conversation.
I carry the lantern with me, bypassing the netting as I search for a box, the lantern fire shining brightly to reveal all the labels. Behind me, the Cinders enter a heated debate about if they should scream for help or not, on how society always has its rises and falls so who cares if others will be hurt as long asweare thriving? I move faster, searching and coming up empty.
It’s unnerving that no one has come searching for me yet?—
The ship begins to dip again.
I hold the lantern against me, my body weightless and slinging around, my shoulder slamming into a box before my ankle lands poorly, and I wince loudly.
When I’m standing on a hobbling leg, my shirt is singing.
Oh, shit. My clothes.
I open another container just as one of them yells, “SHE’S SETTING THE SHIP ON FIRE! HELP!”
“Cunt,” I whisper, my voice shuddering with joy when I see I’ve found the small barrels with corks at the top. I use all the strength remaining in me to uncork one and smelloil. I immediately begin dousing everything, my eyes flicking to the lantern with nearly every other breath.
I then get the idea to dousemyselfin it, just in case someone comes upon me. I partially smile while breathing through my mouth, waving at the flames. “Go, burn it all. Ruin this ship.” I scoop up some of the flaming oil, amazed to see it not burn meas it washes over my skin, and splash it on one of the pillars, the flames climbing up.“This is for you, Anya.” My brows are furrowed in a wild fury as I splash it on another one. “Foryou, Mom.”
“What are you all shouting at?” someone asks, and I glance over to see one of the crew. I gingerly lay the lantern down, and the fire catches on a trail of oil. I laugh and get to work on another barrel.
“FIRE!” the guard shouts. “OIL FIRE!”
Like a mad woman, I dip my hands in oil and let them catch aflame, spreading it around like a child who is painting.
More men come inrightas the ship dips. I scramble to pull out the cork, oil flying everywhere, even a little on my face, as I spill over the boxes. It’s now golden and bright inside, the heat very appreciated after being up top. I glance up at the ceiling. Theceiling!
I take the small jar and sling it around lines the wood above us in streaks.
“Well, get her!” someone shouts.
“This bitch is on fire, too!”
The ship groans like a giant animal, the battering of rain echoing throughout, but at least it’s no longer cold.
I stand among the flames as they roll upward, my body jerked around the boxes and barrels. The area reeks of burning oil and wood, and the panic begins.
A few of the women shriek as they’re still tied to the poles, and the one that’s knocked out begins to awaken and starts screaming her head off.
When I’m on my feet again, more men pile into the room.
