“Dude!” Armon takes a step back from the table, looking disgusted.
“No time for fancy stitching,” the doctor adds cheerfully. “If a soldier survives the amputation, he has a good chance of living. If I don’t cut off the injured arm or leg, he’ll die of blood infection or gangrene, for sure.”
Arman looks a little green himself. We head back to the mess tent to find some water. I see Nicola getting lunch ready with her mom, but we don’t get a chance to talk.
After lunch, Major Helston hands out red and blue uniform jackets, and we join the real reenactors. By now, there are hundreds of them, and hundreds more people just here to watch. Two British soldiers on horseback pick their way through the crowd. The battlefield is roped off with orange tape. The two armies set up on opposite ends of the field, pulling cannons into position. The audience gathers behind the tape. Several reenactors about our age march, beating drums. Others play something called a fife, which looks like a small flute. They are the Fife and Drum Corps. It’s hard to believe young guys like them stood in the middle of the fighting, using their musical instruments to pass on commands.
“Welcome to the annual reenactment at Old Fort Erie,” calls out an announcer over loudspeakers. “The largest War of 1812 reenactment event in Canada.”
I line up with the blue-coated soldiers and stare across the field at the red coats in the distance. This afternoon we’re reenacting the Battle of Chippawa and the Battle of Lundy’s Lane. Then tonight, we do the big attack on the fort.
“The Americans captured Fort Erie on July 3, 1814,” the announcer tells us, “then began advancing north along the Niagara River. They met British troops and their allies at Chippawa Creek on July 5.”
Boom! A cannon blast starts the battle. Smoke billows across the field.
Shoulder to shoulder with the other soldiers, I march into the smoke. My heart pounds, and my hands are sweaty as I grip my musket. I know it’s not a real battle, but I don’t want to screw up.
“Present arms! Fire!” I hear the commands through the cracks of musket fire. I stop, raise my gun and fire.
Bang! Bang! Muskets fire on both sides of me. Gunpowder irritates my eyes and nose. I can’t see what I’m shooting at through the smoke. I hear the crack crack of answering gunfire. The man beside me cries out and falls to the ground as if he’s been shot. My heart jumps. I feel like I just had a close call. As we advance, I step over other men lying on the ground. I think back to my first day at camp when I couldn’t get my musket to fire. My hands shake the first time I reload, but I keep firing, reloading and marching forward.
We get the command to break our line into two wings. The British march in between, and we catch them in heavy crossfire. The battle ends. The Americans win, and I’m still standing.
There’s a break as we regroup to fight the Battle of Lundy’s Lane, which took place at the town of Niagara Falls. I collapse on the ground in some shade and guzzle water from my musty-smelling canteen. For a second, I consider deserting and going to look for Nicola. But as we get back on our feet and reload our muskets, a wave of excitement moves through the reenactors and pulls me with it.
“The Battle of Lundy’s Lane took place July 25, 1814,” the announcer begins. “It was one of the deadliest battles of the war.”
Once again, the cannons blast, and we march across the field. When the battle ends, I break away from the American reenactors and head to the mess tent. As I squeeze through the crowd, I glimpse a man wearing dark sunglasses and a gray hoodie—the guy I saw Helston talking with earlier. He looks out of place among the people dressed like they just stepped out of the past. He stands off to the side, where he has a view of everybody passing by. I walk past, careful not to meet his eyes.
At the mess tent, everyone is talking and laughing. I forget about the guy with the sunglasses and look for Sean.
“That was so cool!” Sean says as we find each other. I grin back at him.
“It will be even better tonight,” he promises.
Chapter Fourteen
For the final battle, we move from the field to the fort. The sun is low in the sky as I take my position with the other American soldiers inside the fort. From the wall above the south-west bastion, I watch the red-coated British troops and Canadian militia form lines to attack us. The First Nations warriors gather beside them.
“After nightfall on August 15, 1814,” the announcer’s voice tells us, “the British, under the command of Lieutenant General Drummond, launched a three-pronged attack on the Americans at Fort Erie.”
A cannon blast starts the attack. Fireworks shriek, mimicking the sound of rockets fired by the British. Muskets fire at us from the field below. I raise my gun above the stone wall and fire back.
As the British and Canadian troops advance toward us, I try to make out Sean, Arman or Carter through the smoke. But it’s getting darker and it’s hard to see anything except the flash of musket fire. We blast at the attackers with our muskets and cannons. Then, suddenly, eerie whoops rise through the summer air as the First Nations warriors run forward to support the British soldiers.
Now there are soldiers directly below us. They lift ladders into place against the fort wall and begin to climb up. In seconds, they will be on us. Of course, if it was really 1814, we’d be doing our best to shoot them off. I look over the wall and see one guy fall from a lower rung of a ladder. I’m not sure if it’s a fake fall or a real fall. I twist around just in time to see the first British soldier come over the wall. Then another. I hesitate, not sure what I’m supposed to do now. A red coat lunges toward me, thrusting a bayonet.
“Hey!” I protest, jumping out of the way. This fight might be phony, but those bayonets could do real damage.
“Sorry,” the guy apologizes. “Lost my balance a bit there.”
There’s something familiar about his voice. Then he grins, and I recognize the man with the pipe we talked to at the British camp earlier. He moves past me, firing his musket at the soldiers behind me.
“Hey!” says an even more familiar voice near my ear. I turn just as Nicola grabs my sleeve and pulls me down against the wall.
“What are you doing here?” I ask as I crouch next to her.
“I’m nursing the wounded,” she says. “There were women acting as nurses right in the middle of the battle. And you look like you just got stabbed with a bayonet.”
“Yeah. Almost for real,” I say.
“Look that way,” she tells me, pointing past the barracks to the north bastion. “They’re going to blow it up any second.”
I barely have time to look.
Boom!
The explosion is louder than I expected. Yellow-orange flames shoot up into the night sky. The soldiers and the people watching from the field gasp and then cheer. I close my eyes and still see the flash of light burned onto the back of my eyelids. My ears ring.
The flames die away, and smoke billows across the fort. As my eyes return to normal, I see bodies littering the ground below the north bastion. My heart jolts, and for a second I wonder if they’re really dead. Maybe something went wrong with the fireworks.
“Just think,” Nicola says, “two hundred years ago, that was real. Three hundred men died in the explosion, and more in the rest of the fighting.”
We stare into the smoke for moment, not saying anything. I think back to earlier in the week when we laughed about the headless ghost and the handless ghost. It doesn’t seem funny anymore.
A voice from a loudspeaker cuts into our thoughts. But this time, it’s not the reenactment announcer. It seems to be coming from the river. Nicola and I stand up and look over the wall.
“This is the border patrol,” a deep, amplified voice calls. “Please stop your engine and prepare to be boarded.”
Everyone—including the guys playing dead a second ago—rushes to the wall to see what’s going on. The river is black but dotted with the lights of boats viewing the reenactment fireworks. The border-patrol boat is obvious
by the big beam of light coming from it. It closes in on a small boat caught in the light. It’s hard to tell whether the other boat is on the Canadian side of the river or the American.
I expect the border patrol boat to pull up alongside the other boat. But suddenly, the other boat picks up speed. It’s making a run for it. The roar of the motors drifts up to the fort as we watch the chase. For a moment, it looks as if the fleeing boat might get away. But the border patrol boat closes in.
“Did they get them?” I jump at the sound of Major Helston’s voice, as he steps up beside Nicola. On his other side is a man I almost don’t recognize without his dark sunglasses. He’s still dressed in jeans and gray hoodie. What is he doing in the middle of the reenactment?
Chapter Fifteen
The guy with the hoodie pulls something out from under his jacket. For a second, I think it might be a handgun. But it’s a walkie-talkie. There’s the crackle of static.
“The suspects have been apprehended,” says a voice from the walkie-talkie. “Officers are searching the boat.”
The man walks away from us, speaking into the walkie-talkie.
“Dad, what’s going on?” Nicola asks.
“The police got a tip that something was going to be smuggled across the river today during the reenactment,” Helston tells us. He gestures to the man in the hoodie. “Sergeant Melino is a plainclothes police officer working with the border patrol.”
Sergeant Melino makes his way back to us.
“The boat was clean,” he says, shaking his head. “It must have been a diversion.”
“Does that mean the smugglers made it across?” Helston asks.
“There’s a chance they did,” the officer says. “We’ll keep up a patrol along the shore tonight. If you see anything out of the ordinary, call me.”
“Of course,” Helston tells him.
I wonder what was being smuggled.
“Thanks for your help, Bruce,” the officer says, holding out his hand to shake Helston’s.
Bruce? That’s Hell Storm’s first name? And he’s helping the police? This whole thing is weird.
As the reenactment comes to a close, Nicola and I go to search out Sean and the others. We leave through the front gate of the fort, passing reenactors and tourists on their way in for a special lantern tour of the fort. I notice the dark shape of someone walking up from the river. As he steps into the light near the front gate, I see that it’s Lieutenant Gunner.
“So, you survived the battle,” he says when he sees us.
“Did you meet up with your girlfriend?” I ask, remembering what he said the night we caught him talking on his cell phone.
“Who?”
“I thought you were meeting your girlfriend Saturday night,” I say.
“Oh, right,” Gunner says, with a laugh. “I guess she stood me up.”
The three of us walk back toward the camp. We bump into Sean, Arman and Carter before we get there.
“What did you think?” Sean asks. “Wasn’t it cool?”
“Did you see the boat chase?” Arman demands.
Gunner laughs.
“Well, I’ll leave you guys to it,” he says. “Watch out for the headless ghost.”
We laugh and wave goodnight.
“I’m not kidding,” he says as he walks off in the direction of his tent. “You should stay in your tents tonight.”
Is he serious? I meet Nicola’s eyes, and she shrugs as if she’s read my mind.
“I guess if there are any ghosts, they would be restless tonight,” Carter suggests.
“He’s just kidding,” Sean says.
“Well, I’m not going to be wandering around tonight after everyone’s in bed,” Arman says.
A wave of voices and laughter rolls from the camps.
“It doesn’t sound like anyone’s going to bed for a while yet,” I say. “Should we check it out?”
We walk toward the noise, and Nicola takes hold of my arm, tugging me to slow down. We drop a few steps behind the others.
“Did you think that was weird?” she asks, her voice lowered so the others don’t hear.
“What? The way Gunner tried to scare us?”
“Yeah,” she says. “And what about his girlfriend? It was like he didn’t know what you were talking about.”
“So?” I say. But puzzle pieces have started shifting around in my head. Gunner arranging to meet someone on Saturday. I think back to his exact wording. Right, he’d said. Saturday it is. What if he hadn’t been making plans to meet a girlfriend? What if he’d been making plans for something else?
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I ask Nicola.
“That depends,” she says. “You don’t think Gunner could be involved with smuggling, do you?”
“Nah,” I say. “He’s a good guy.”
But is he? If he wasn’t meeting his girlfriend, what was he doing down by the river? Checking that the boats were okay? I picture the boats lying on the shore. Our two boats, and the two American boats. The boats that crossed the river.
Hidden in plain sight. Isn’t that what Gunner told us about the British boats that snuck up on the three American schooners? What if something was hidden in the boats? The reenactors who rowed across might not even have known it was there. Gunner could be waiting for the commotion to die down before he moves the stuff.
“I think I know where the smuggled stuff is hidden,” I say.
“What are you talking about?” Sean demands. I turn around to see Sean, Arman and Carter staring at us. I hadn’t noticed them stop walking.
I meet Nicola’s eyes, and she nods for me to go ahead and tell them.
“This might sound crazy,” I say. “But we need to go to the river.”
Chapter Sixteen
“You’ve got to tell the police,” Sean says after Nicola and I explain everything.
“They’re not going to believe us,” I say. “We’re just guessing.”
“Then why not wait until the morning to check the boats?” Sean asks.
“He’ll have the stuff moved by then,” I point out.
“If there is anything,” Nicola says. “We could be totally wrong.”
“But you could be right,” Arman says.
We decide on a three-pronged attack. Sean and I will go down to the river, Arman and Carter will stand at the edge of the field and keep watch for Gunner, and Nicola will go to the southwest bastion and watch for our signal.
“What’s the signal?” Nicola asks.
I think for a second, wishing we had our cell phones. Then I hold up my musket.
“If we find something, I’ll fire off a shot.”
“But won’t that alert Gunner?” Sean says. “The police won’t be able to prove he’s connected unless they catch him in action, right?”
“Good point,” I tell Sean. Sometimes he surprises me.
Nicola reaches into the apron she’s wearing over her long dress and pulls out a small flashlight.
“Whoa!” Arman says. “That doesn’t look very 1812.”
“It’s for emergencies,” she explains as she hands it to Sean. “You guys take it. You can flash it on and off to signal me.”
“Good idea,” I tell her. For a second I feel pissed that she gave the flashlight to Sean, not to me, but feeling jealous right now is stupid.
Sean tucks the flashlight into his waistband, and we head toward the river. I look back once and see Nicola disappear through the front gate of the fort. There is no sign of Arman and Carter, but a shadowy tree at the edge of the field seems like a likely hiding spot.
The lights of Buffalo shine on the other side of the river, but on our side, it’s dark. I shine the flashlight across the white hulls of the four boats.
“I don’t see anything,” Sean says.
I move ahead of him to the first boat. I reach under the closest seat and pull out a canvas bag.
“That’s just a life jacket,” Sean says.
“Give me some light,” I t
ell him.
He directs the flashlight beam on the bag, and we hold our breath as I pull out a bulky shape.
It’s a life jacket.
“Frack!”
I reach for the next bag. It’s another life jacket. We check the next boat. More life jackets. I kick the side of the boat and swear. I must have got it wrong.
“Maybe there’s something inside the life jackets,” Sean suggests. He hands me the flashlight and grabs one of the life jackets. He turns it around in his hands, looking for a loose seam.
“I wish I had my Swiss Army knife,” he complains.
“Or a bayonet,” I say. I look back up at the fort as he fiddles with the life jacket. The walls are dark, and I can’t tell if anyone’s looking over the bastion wall.
“Got it!” Sean holds up a block of something wrapped tightly in plastic. I don’t know what it is exactly, but it doesn’t look like it would keep anyone afloat if they needed to use the life jacket. And I’m pretty sure it’s not cheese.
Gravel crunches behind us, and we spin around.
“You weren’t supposed to see that,” says Gunner. He puts a hand up to shield his eyes as I shine the flashlight on him. He doesn’t look mad, or even dangerous. If anything, he looks disappointed. Then he smiles in his usual friendly way, and I wonder again if I could be mistaken. But the stuff is in the life jackets, and he’s just admitted he knew it was there.
I shift the flashlight to point the beam at the fort. But before I can switch it on and off to signal Nicola, Gunner springs forward and knocks it from my hand.
“You don’t need to do that,” he says. His voice is calm and still friendly, but it doesn’t match what he just did. My heart pounds. I glance over at Sean and see his eyes move to the musket he set down against the boat earlier. Even if he can grab it, I know it’s not loaded. We have no way of signaling for help.
“Well,” Gunner says, smiling again. “Since you’re here, you might as well help me get these to my truck.”
I move to stand next to Sean, looking past Gunner to the fort. Maybe we can make a run for it.
Siege Page 5
